Month: May 2020

Today is Friday, the day that I share my Weekly Winks, but with all that’s going on in the world, especially our country, it’s hard to point the Winks out. There is so much that I want to say about George Floyd, the man who was murdered by a police officer in Minneapolis; Ahmaud Arbery, the man who was murdered while he was out for a run in Georgia; and the hundreds of others who fall into this senseless category, but I can’t get a grip on my emotions right now, so I’ll offer this. 

            Two years ago I took a class at my children’s school about the history of racism in our country. Taught by the brilliant Dr. Lucretia Carter Berry (check out www.brownicity.com), I learned more than I ever could have imagined about race relations. She designed the curriculum and wrote the book that we studied in the class, What Lies Between Us: Fostering First Steps Toward Racial Healing. Many days I left class with tears in my eyes. Other days I left angry — angry that I didn’t know any of this stuff before now, angry that so many people I know will probably never know it, angrier still that so many people I know won’t really care about it. 

            We always connect to the piece of the puzzle that fits closest to us, and that’s what happened when a fellow mom told me that she didn’t feel comfortable going out in public wearing workout clothes. It’s not that she was overweight; it’s that she was black. She felt like she always had to be dressed to the nines to stay safe and be taken somewhat seriously when she left her home.             

            As someone who wears yoga pants more than not, I quickly fell into a better (not at all complete) understanding of what my black friends face every day. It sounds so simple, but it signifies so many things, and it brought my white privilege to the surface. I live the life fandango every day, even during COVID-19. I’m grateful for every bit of it, but my heart aches for those who can’t go and do the simplest things in this world without facing the eyes of suspicion. It has nothing to do with quarantining and everything to do with racism, and it has to stop.  

            I can’t imagine being the mother of a black child in today’s world. It’s hard enough for me to give my 10-year-old white children a little slice of independence simply because of normal mom anxiety. Will they fall down while riding their bikes? Will they get hit by a car? Will a snake bite them? That’s nothing compared to what black children face when they simply walk around the block. Will someone harass them? Will someone hit them? Will someone shoot them? It’s maddening. 

            Today, as I set up my workout outside, I saw my 90-something neighbor walking with her caregiver. My neighbor is white, and her caregiver is black. Watching them chat away as they passed by, I thought of how more of us need to do that. Sure, they’re in a business arrangement. Her caregiver is paid to take care of her, but what if once a week we took a walk with someone of a different race. What if they walked with us in our neighborhoods and we walked with them in theirs? What if we discovered what we have in common and learned from our differences? What if we shared jokes and stories? What if we swapped recipes? What if we became friends?

            Getting to know someone is the pathway to healing, folks. That’s how we learn, and judging by what I briefly heard on the news this morning (I had to turn it off because I started crying), we have a lot of learning to do. 

            It seems frivolous this week, but the Winks I witnessed are important because they serve as lights in this time of darkness. So without further adieu, here are this week’s Weekly Winks.  

            Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — I saw a piece of art that connects to a new writing business I’m launching — more on that soon. 

Sunday — I’ve always wanted to have my own Christmas special on TV, during which I would walk down a staircase that lights up step by step. (Can you tell I grew up in the ’70s?) Anyway, as I was walking through the freezer section at Publix, the movement sensor lights flashed on in time with me. For a brief moment, my TV special dream came true! (This is what COVID-19 is doing to me.) 

Monday — I did the Murph with a group of neighbors, and we had the best time, especially since one of my neighbors is a veteran who did many tours in Afghanistan, as well as Iraq. He shared some compelling stories with us about his experiences overseas. 

Tuesday — Margot and I visited her church choir leader for a few minutes (in her yard). She’s retiring after 41 years, so it was special to see her. 

Wednesday — The Tots and I found a Muppets version of Bohemian Rhapsody on YouTube. I highly recommend it. 

Thursday — The song from Space Jam came on as I was finishing my workout. I LOVE THAT SONG!

Friday — When I walked out of our front door this morning, I found a large stone with a piece of grass tied around it like a present. My daughter left it there, and I’m sure glad she did. 

            Get outside this weekend and get outside of your comfort zone to connect with someone different from you. You might just find out that you’re not that different after all. 

I think about the past way too much, forcing the present to constantly hit me over the head to pay attention. And the future? I dabble in it by making plans (and even setting goals), but I don’t spend nearly enough time there. 

            I’m a big “a year ago today we ….” person, but these days I’m finding that game much too painful. Sure, the first Thanksgiving and Christmas without my mom were tough, but the field of memory land mines I’m about to walk through is much worse. As the calendar creeps toward June in our new world, my heart is still breaking in our old one. 

            June of last year was one of the happiest times of my life. I had just resigned from my job with plans to spend a fun summer with The Tots. This was going to be the summer we’d always dreamed of, complete with popsicles, boat rides and plenty of beach time. Instead of deadlines hanging over my head, I’d have a pool umbrella towering above me. 

            Seven days later everything came falling down. Dad called early that morning saying that we needed to take mom to the doctor. Five days from her doctor visit, mom sat in a wheelchair as I pushed her into the hospital. Four days after that on July 4, she celebrated her 82^nd birthday there. The next day she found out she had stomach cancer. Forty-eight hours later on a Sunday, the doctor told my father and husband that she had four to six weeks to live. 

            The anniversaries are a blur after that — admitting my mother into a nursing home, managing her care, figuring out a way to bring her home, not realizing the last time she could speak to me and know who I was, saying goodbye, organizing her memorial service, the list goes on. Every time I try to open that box of memories, I slam it shut. One day I’ll sift through it to see what I need to save, but for now, those memories need to stay in the box. 

            Last night when I shared my anxiety with John about this upcoming summer, he asked me why I don’t think about the good anniversaries. He’s right in that some good things also happened last summer. The Tots learned to wakeboard. I drove the pontoon at night on my own. Graydon skied for the first time. We had a great day at Carowinds’ waterpark with short lines, and a cool family moved in across the street from us. 

            Those were all wonderful things filled with goodness. It’s nice to think about those things when I let myself shift focus, but doing that is easier said than done. Regardless, I’m trying. Today, for example, despite the rain wanting to infest us with a dismal mood, I went on a date with my son.

Clad in masks and lathered in hand sanitizer, we ventured into Davidson to grab a slice of normal. We ended up at The Soda Shop. While perusing the menu, the owner came out to catch up with us. We talked about the pandemic, what’s happened and what’s next. And then we talked about how this has been good for us in so many ways because a lot of us, definitely me, are spoiled. 

            Prior to COVID-19, most of us had fun choices to make every day, choices that we took for granted. Before the world was turned on its end, my family and I would have had a good time at The Soda Shop, but we wouldn’t have placed a special value on the experience, and it probably wouldn’t have ranked high enough to be one of our “a year ago today we ….” memories.

            Today is different. Today the cottage fries were extra crispy. Today the vegetable soup was seasoned just right. Today talking to people I hadn’t seen in months meant everything. Today is when we bravely flirted with things we used to do. Today is now officially marked in my mind as a day I will happily remember a year from now. 

            June is coming whether I like it or not, but I can control what I let it do to me. I can wallow in the past, recounting every painful moment of last summer, or I can fold those memories into my heart as I carve out happier ones to reminisce about next year. The choice is up to me. 

         Yesterday, a red cardinal flew to the bird feeder in our front yard about an hour before dinner. He snacked on birdseed for a few minutes, and then he just stood on the ledge of the bird feeder as if he were taking a much-needed break. I think we all know how that bird feels. We’ve been flying around in our homes, trying to stay sane since March, and we need a little break. The problem is that we have different ways of going about this. 

            Today, North Carolina goes into a modified phase 2 of reopening. I know some of you can’t wait to eat in a restaurant after getting your hair trimmed, and I also know that some of you won’t leave your homes for a few more weeks — or months. Here’s where we need some major Winks of Goodness. Instead of jumping on a soapbox filled with stats and sources, some valid and some not, just be kind. The last thing we need in addition to the layers of stress we’re already under is political judgments and bickering. Just be kind. 

            Think of others (especially our vulnerable populations) as you handle the pandemic in a way that works for you and just be kind. In the meantime, it’s Friday, and you know what that means — Weekly Winks!

            Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — I mowed our yard. This is one of my favorite things to do because you see the results instantly. (It’s also nice not being able to hear what anyone says to you.) 

Sunday — A red cardinal sat on the transom window in our living room as we watched our 9:45 church service on YouTube. I’ve never seen a bird in that window before. I hope he liked the service as much as I did. 

Monday — John and The Tots sang along to Michael McDonald’s Minute by Minute (love me some Yacht Rock) as we cleaned the kitchen after dinner. 

Tuesday — Tears filled my eyes as I drove up to The Tots’ school to put cans in the recycling bin. The building, which is usually full of laughing children and learning, was completely empty, and on top of that, it was raining. The scene was beyond sad. A little later after I finished grocery shopping, Wham!’s Freedom came on the radio, and I just started belting it out. Somehow it made me feel better. So folks, remember that there’s always Wham! to bring you up when you’re down. 

Wednesday — The Tots spent the whole rainy day building a city (aptly named Brick Lake City) out of Legos. I loved listening to their city planning discussions. These two are going places! 

Thursday — After dinner, The Time Warp from The Rocky Horror Picture Show came on the radio. It’s one of my favorite songs from high school, so I had to show The Tots how to do the dance that goes along with it. They laughed at me so hard, and I loved hearing every second of their cackles.  

Friday — The sun returned!

            This Memorial Day weekend, navigate phase two in a safe way that works for you and our community. AND GET OUTSIDE!

            For Mother’s Day, I had a necklace made that reads Esse Quam Videri. Sound familiar? Check out North Carolina’s state seal and you’ll see this Latin phrase that means, “To be, rather than to seem.” It’s our state motto.

            I can’t remember when I learned our motto’s meaning. It might have been in elementary school, where my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Moose (one of the best teachers ever), painted the halls with endless North Carolina murals. Every time we walked to the restroom, we were reminded that our state shell was the Scotch Bonnet, and our state tree was the pine. 

            Regardless of when I learned our motto, it stuck with me. “To be, rather than to seem” seemed like a wonderful way to live. Little did I know how hard it would be to do because society and its expectations have different ideas about how to go about this. As a people pleaser, I found it difficult to extricate myself from that web of standards. Difficult, but not impossible. 

            That said, I struck out on a self-audit about three years ago that would bring me closer to being rather than seeming. I began noticing things that weren’t working in my life, and slowly, but surely, made adjustments. 

            First, I resigned from a board position that took me away from my children and my parents too much. Then, after ten years, I left a job that was slowly chipping away at my soul and was no longer a good fit for me. Last fall, after ditching church for at least two years, we began attending a new church. These weren’t easy decisions to make, and they were even harder to implement. There were tears, sleepless nights and endless conversations, but my family and I did it. We took brave steps so that we could be rather than seem. 

            As I peek out my door at the world, wondering what it will be like when COVID-19 evolves into a history lesson, I want to continue being rather than seeming. I want to speak out when I see injustice instead of nodding silently and walking away because I’m afraid I’ll offend someone. I want to say “no” when someone asks me to do something I don’t want to do. I want to disagree when I don’t agree with something. I want to live an authentic life with no apologies. 

            These are big goals, but I think I can get there with practice…and age. Speaking of age, one way I’m living authentically is through my hair. Even though the coronavirus has forced many women to grow out their color, I started doing it a year ago. A combination of losing my hairdresser, finances and just becoming tired of the maintenance brought me to this decision. 

            As an older mom, I vehemently opposed letting my white (not gray, folks) hair shine through and vowed that I wouldn’t do it until I hit at least 50. Well, I’m 47.5, and I’ve decided that it’s time to be who I am. My father has the most beautiful white hair you’ve ever seen, and hopefully, I eventually will, too. Until then, we’re going with the term ashy blonde (baby steps). 

            It’s a little thing, but it’s liberating. I’ve earned those white hairs so why would I want to hide them? Why would I want to cover up who I am? Why would anyone want to do that? 

            We are all these wonderful cocktails of experiences, environment, interests and talents. Maybe being cooped up for months will inspire us to serve those cocktails to the world and see what happens. How beautiful would it be if we all came out of this being instead of seeming?

             As for my necklace, I plan to wear it often because I’ve earned it and because I don’t want to forget who I am. It’s taken me a long time to uncover who that is, and I refuse to let her go now.  

         I have three words for COVID-19 — Make it stop. Rough week, folks, so let’s just get on with Weekly Winks. 

Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — Since we’re officially in phase 1, I worked out with some friends on a field Saturday morning. It was so nice to be back together, even though we had to stay six feet apart. 

Sunday — We walked on the greenway as a family for Mother’s Day, and the day could not have been more beautiful. I didn’t see a butterfly, but John and The Tots did. I’m guessing mom knew that would be too much for me on my first Mother’s Day without her.  

Monday — Last day of school for The Tots! Super weird last day of school because of remote learning, but the last day of school nonetheless. After all was said and done, I tree bathed on our patio with a sigh of relief and a heart full of gratitude for teachers. 

Tuesday — I talked with a new friend/church leader at our new church about a new program idea for kids. Can I use the word “new” more? Anyway, it made me excited to think about the world reopening. 

Wednesday — I got some much needed alone time on the water. We are so lucky to live where we live. 

Thursday — On the way to a farewell parade for Margot’s 2-3 loop teacher, who is moving away, two bluebirds flew in front of us. I took it as a sign that things are getting better, even though we were so sad to say goodbye. 

Friday — I got a big dose of girl power by listening to Brene Brown (total awesomeness) interview Jen Hatmaker (also total awesomeness) during a walk. They gave me the kick in the butt I so desperately needed. 

            Here’s to another week of living in the unknown. Keep holding on and get outside!

During quarantine, a lot of my friends have discovered bird nests around their homes. Nestled in wreaths, plants and trees, these nests have received more attention than ever because we finally have the time to notice them. I don’t think that’s a coincidence; I think it’s Mother Nature doing what she does best — making a point. 

            There’s nothing more hopeful than new life, and right now we need hope more than ever. Once I realized my friends were posting daily pictures of their respective nests, I found myself looking for updates. How were the birds? Had they hatched? Was their mother feeding them properly? (Of course she was.) Had they begun flirting with flying yet? Did they all make it?  

            As the first week of North Carolina’s phase 1 reopening comes to a close, I feel like a baby bird. I’m comfortable in my nest, yet eager to go out and see the world. I love having food delivered, but realize I need to cook for myself. I think I know how to fly, but I’m not sure if I can do it. I thought I would feel better once some of the restrictions were lifted, but I feel more insecure than ever. 

            When I go out, I wear my mask and wipe my hands down like crazy with sanitizer, wondering if this is how I’ll have to go out into the world from now on. (Remember when we didn’t have to take our shoes off before flying?) I just want to go back to my nest. 

            When I start dreaming about having a real schedule that involves other people, I receive an e-mail that yet another event or camp has been cancelled. Back to my nest I go. 

            When I think that people might be able to go to work and salvage their jobs, I hear of layoffs and furloughs. The nest is where I want to be. 

            It’s easy to want to stay where you’re safe and secure. My nest is filled with the people (and cats) that I love and plenty of food. A part of me would love to stay here forever, but we’re approaching the point where we need to be brave if we’re going to rebuild our world. We need to be brave and smart, and it wouldn’t hurt if we threw in a dash of understanding. 

            Last night while running an errand, I was driving slower than usual because I haven’t been driving much lately, and I’m terrified of having an accident. Suddenly, an SUV revved its engine as it passed me in an angry, borderline dangerous manner. I didn’t know the driver. I just know that he or she was impatient. I understand that we’re all impatient these days, but the growl of that engine infuriated me. In that moment, I almost let the hope that I have for our new normal go, but I held onto it because I realized that our normals don’t have to be the same. 

            That driver can be angry and mad that the world isn’t the way they want it to be. They can let their frustration out and speed on in front of me, but I refuse to do that. I’m not going to throw away the chance of building a better and simpler life. Mother Nature would be so disappointed in me if I did that, and I can’t let her down. 

            So yes, I blew my horn at the SUV driver and I think I also yelled some expletives, but then I continued to drive slowly because I wasn’t in a hurry. I was finally getting the hang of flying, and knowing that my nest was waiting for me gave me the courage to keep going. 

I hit my mental wall this week, folks. I think I’ve just been trying a little too hard to hold things together, and once I realized that our state was going into phase 1 of reopening, I had to let it out. 

            It’s like when you get near the end of a workout. You push yourself really hard because you know it’s almost over. You leave it all on the gym floor because there are only a few more minutes left. Everything I’ve been holding in during the quarantine came out this week. I cried. I yelled, and now I feel better. 

            I have no idea if this is almost over, and no one else does either — this includes people who think they’re epidemiologists just because they went to Harris Teeter without a mask and didn’t catch COVID-19. We are all individuals. We all have opinions, and our opinions are informed from different experiences and character traits. The sooner we realize that and belt out a verse of Let it Be, the better off we’ll all be. 

            One thing that put me in a good mood today is the fact that it is Friday. Regardless of the coronavirus, I still get a kick out of Fridays. I still want to hear Loverboy’s Working for the Weekend and Wet Willie’s Weekend when the clock ticks closer to 5 p.m. (You know you love those songs.)

            That said, it’s time for Weekly Winks. Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — A yellow butterfly flew beside me for a few seconds during my run. I know it was mom helping me get through the week leading up to my first Mother’s Day without her. 

Sunday — While I was running, a sweet man let me cross in front of him while he was waiting at a stop sign. He yelled, “Go ahead, don’t mess up your pace.” I love nice people. 

Monday — My soul sister brought me a pink butterfly for my first Mother’s Day without mom. Beyond thankful for my soul sister for more reasons than I can count! I clipped the butterfly on the lampshade beside my bed so that it’s the first thing I see in the morning. 

Tuesday — Today was Easton’s day, and I’m so grateful that people responded to my blog post about her (Mothers and Daughters Connected Forever— May 5, 2020) because it keeps her with us. Love you forever, sweet Easton. 

Wednesday — My neighbor’s son brought his turtle, aptly named Turtle, over to meet me. I adore turtles, and I love that he just brought him over out of the blue. It made my whole day. 

Thursday — Today we rode in parades by the homes of Graydon’s teacher and his teacher assistant. It was so wonderful to see everyone, but it was also sad because we couldn’t hug and hang out. One day….

Friday — During my morning run, I saw children playing on the swing set at a local childcare center. Watching them run around and hearing their giggles gave me a tiny glimpse of normal. We will get there. 

            As we crack the door open to our new world, remember that we are all in this together. And also remember that Sunday is Mother’s Day. Here’s to all those folks out there who have lost their moms, and here’s to all of those women out there desperately trying to become mothers. I see you, and I love you. 

            Happy Mother’s Day! Stay well!

            Today is a special day, and I so wish it weren’t. Three years ago May 5 ceased being Cinco de Mayo or even my friend Tim’s birthday. For the rest of my life May 5 will be the day a beautiful little girl left us too soon. At just two-and-a-half years old, my sweet little friend, Easton Elizabeth Mills, died suddenly and unexpectedly from a brain tumor. 

            I’ve written about Easton before (Where the Winks Come From, February 20, 2019 and Magic Cookie Week, December 3, 2019) because her spirit inspired me to create this blog. When I began seeing the Winks she sent her family and friends, I started noticing other Winks around me. After a while, I realized how powerful these Winks were, and I wanted to focus on them more. Anyone who knows me knows that writing is how I think things through, so here we are. 

            This year the anniversary of Easton’s passing is a little different for me because of the recent loss of my mother. During the past eight months, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the relationships between mothers and daughters. Those relationships aren’t always pretty, but I was lucky in that the one I had with my mother was. Sure, we had our fights and now that she’s gone there are about five million things I’d love to apologize for, but the beauty of our connection overrides that. She’s with me every day, helping me navigate my relationship with my children. 

            Now that The Tots are tweens, I need her help more than ever. I frequently find myself digging through my memory for any article of wisdom from her that can help me deal with the challenges of the day. As I search for answers to a particular question, I always come across another memory that makes me either laugh or cry. It’s like digging for Christmas decorations in the attic. While you’re trying to find your tree topper, a box of old toys gives you a detour you didn’t know you needed, and you realize that answers are often in places you’d never think to look. 

            The best way I’ve found to communicate with mom is through writing — big surprise. Most evenings before bed I write letters to her in a journal. I let her know how dad is doing, and I fill her in on what The Tots and I are up to. If I’m mad at someone, she gets to hear all about that, too. Even though it’s just ink on paper, I know she sees it, and I know that she is with me. 

            The same is true for Easton and her mother, Liz. Though Easton isn’t physically here, Liz feels her presence every moment of the day. Their relationship continues, and it always will. In the meantime, Liz has transformed her heartache into help so that others can also feel Easton’s presence.

            Since Easton’s passing, Liz and an army of volunteers have sold untold amounts of cookies to raise funds for Cookies for Kids’ Cancer. Months after Easton died, Liz came up with the idea for the Easton Challenge, a functional training workout at the Lake Norman YMCA that raises funds for disadvantaged kids to go to summer camp. We were all set to hold the third Easton Challenge on April 25, but the coronavirus had other plans.             

So today before you gobble tacos and quesadillas, do a quick workout for Easton. If you don’t work out, clap your hands, smile or wear a bow. (Easton could rock a bow like no one else.) Then afterwards, eat a cookie for a beautiful little girl who taught me to look for Winks of Goodness every day.

Life never stops surprising me. Take the month of May for example. Any mom of school-aged kids knows that this is the busiest month of the year. There are tests, end-of-year parties, recitals, playoffs, spring musicals, banquets, teacher gifts, graduations and more. Then there’s this year. Who would have thought?

            Instead of scurrying around town while cursing Sign Up Genius, I’m walking up and down the stairs of my house delivering laundry, making sure the bird feeders are full and trying to find a good recipe for strawberries. It’s not all bad — just different. 

            As our state prepares to reopen slowly, I’m going to focus on those differences and try to build a new schedule that fulfills my expectations and my family’s, not everyone else’s. There goodness in intention, and I intend to find it. There’s the Wink! 

            That said, it’s time for Weekly Winks. Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — Today my darling husband, John, turned 50! Friends drove by and honked, and The Tots and I simply enjoyed celebrating what a wonderful person he is. It was the best day!

Sunday— I saw the old lady booking it down Catawba Avenue (read Take a Good Look Around — June 29, 2019). I hadn’t seen her in forever, so it was wonderful to know that’s she’s okay, crossbody and all, and still making her way around town. COVID-19 has nothing on this chick. 

Monday — I ran past Mr. Green Jeans’ house during my run. No, that’s not his real name, and I have no idea what his real name is, but I do know that he can grow absolutely anything. Today a waft of honeysuckle greeted me as I ran by. Heaven!

Tuesday— I walked with my soul sister in Jetton Park. (Yes, we followed the social distance rules.) It was so nice to talk under the trees and just breathe. 

Wednesday— The Tots and I took a “science field trip” to Carrigan Farms to pick strawberries. (Again, we followed the social distance rules.) Being out in the strawberry field was pure magic. 

Thursday — Margot discovered a new honeysuckle bush in her grandparents’ yard down the street. She’s starting a honeysuckle scent business, so she was super excited. 

Friday— Hamilton, one of our tabby cats, snuggled with me before I got up this morning. This was especially sweet since he was in the hospital exactly a year ago today, and we weren’t sure he was going to make it. 

            Remember that we are all in this together. Think about how you want your life to be different (in a good way) when the world reopens and make it so. Stay well!