When a baby is born, there is a moment when everyone in the delivery room holds a collective breath, which is released at the first cry. We respond to this with relief and joy. This cry sets the tone for many weeks to come! While we sometimes feel frustrated when we hear it because we can’t figure out a problem, or exhausted from lack of sleep, we are always completely accepting that crying is simply something babies do. It is almost their only way of communicating that they need us do do something for them. Sometimes the cry is a tired cry and we know to rock them. Sometimes it’s a hungry one and we know to feed them. If we leave them too long the cry can become an angry one and we smile at the cuteness of it.

At around six weeks, babies smile for the first time. There is once again great excitement. We do everything short of stand on our heads to elicit this wonderful curve of their mouths. They still cry but now we have another goal, another solution – we aim for the smile. All things being equal, life progresses. They laugh, they throw tantrums and finally they learn to talk. I sometime wonder whether talking, meant to be the ultimate in communication, diminishes it. When babies begin talking, we finally have the tools to instruct rather than respond. We can now say things like, “you’re okay,” “it’s not necessary to cry,” or even “that’s enough.” We no longer find it necessary to pay close attention to our baby’s non-verbal cues and interpret what they want. We expect them to tell us. “Stop crying and tell me what’s wrong,” we say.

Now, I’m not suggesting that we cry our way through life but I do think we all need to hold on to and value the uncomfortable feelings that we have. If we give them our full attention, they can help us understand ourselves and then make decisions about our lives. Very often we learn more from our uncomfortable feelings than our comfortable ones. It’s a natural human tendency to want to avoid difficult  feelings so we have to view embracing them the same way that we look at workouts and healthy eating. We would rather not but the end justifies the means! We should remember that in the beginning we love and value our baby’s cry, for what it tells us and simply for the fact that it exists as a part of their humanness.

So here goes. I’m going to share something from my stash of stuff never seen and never to be seen by others. Famous last words. So to my 12 fans out there, here it is. This includes me (to bulk up the numbers), my husband (because he loves me), my sons (because I send them a direct link and then ask them later if they’ve read it), my sisters (because they love me and I send them the direct link) and finally 4 loyal friends for all of the same reasons listed before.

A Writer’s Tragedy

They form like the bubbles in a hot spring
propelled by mystical energy
filled with excitement of possibility
they race to the surface and explode, releasing
inside, outside, everywhere, all at once
“Here we are!”
their wordless cry
announcing existence boldly
they are

then like good little soldiers
these words gather round
consumed with direction and purpose
they grasp and hold
disappearing into collective rationality

why do you run?
I want you so badly
we cannot be caught
they scream in pure glee
we are wise

pure

creativity

Now the words do what words always have.
They organize, add grammar, semi-colons; stops.
And sadly in doing so, the best of it
lost.
Beyond our control,
we have no other choice.
Even cliché’s must have a voice.

This burden we carry
This challenge we take
This compromise we make

Whether we like it or not, our experiences change. It’s an inevitable product of life. Sometimes these changes require very little of us. For example, noticing a colour of a rose that we haven’t seen before means that we have to expand our knowledge of roses to now include that colour. Some changes, however, demand much more from us. These are changes that affect many aspects of our emotional lives. Take a person who has never had to cope with anxiety but at the age of thirty, has a panic attack. This often causes chaos resulting in emotions such as confusion, denial, helplessness, anger and depression. This is because it is not simply the anxiety that this person must now deal with. Their entire belief system, conscious or unconscious, is placed in upheaval and must be re-organized to accommodate this new experience. This is complicated further by the existence in many cases of opposing beliefs. For example, it is common for someone who has never experienced anxiety to have formed a belief about themselves to include a “that could never happen to me” statement or worse, “people with anxiety are weak.” That many of these pre-existing beliefs are unconscious, does not help matters. When beliefs about ourselves oppose our experience, havoc occurs. The key to dealing with anxiety or any other uncomfortable emotion is acceptance. This acceptance has to be from the inside out, from the very core of who be believe we are. Acceptance requires that we change the beliefs that counter our ability to accommodate a new reality. This process can often begin with a question different from the one we are already asking. “Why is this happening to me?” must be replaced with: “What do I believe about this that prevents me from accepting it?” Don’t confuse acceptance with complacency. As unintuitive as it seems, these two are conversely correlated. When we are in a state of non-acceptance, all our energy and focus is on keeping our experience in a negative holding-pattern. This is complacency. Acceptance frees us to focus on moving forward, a place much more likely to house resolution for any state of mind that we happen to be in.

Six months ago my son’s father-in-law suffered a massive heart attack requiring emergency intervention and four stents. Feeling short of breath a few weeks ago, he visited his Cardiologist and, within three days, had an urgent quadruple bypass. This man has a zest for life that I have personally never seen in another person. I happened to be with him and his family the night before surgery when his surgeon paid him a visit.

“When can I get back to work,” was the only question that my son’s father-in-law asked the surgeon.

The surgeon replied with a smile, “Many people take months; sometimes six months or more. You will be ready in four weeks.” We all laughed at the surgeon’s astute assessment of my son’s father-in-law.

I did the math. If a positive attitude can make that much difference to healing after major surgery, then the emphasis generally placed on emotion in medicine, is sadly lacking.

Some would say that when it comes to mental illness, we have come out of the dark ages. I would rephrase this and say: When it comes to mental illness, those suffering have begun to emerge from the dark ages. Speaking from my personal experience, and having suffered with depression and anxiety for most of my life, I now, at 54, am comfortable with who I am. The vast majority of people, and I include those that suffer and those that don’t, remain prisoners or gatekeepers. Either way, mental illness, or as I like to call it, humanness, remains compartmentalized within medicine.

My oldest son herniated a disc in his lower back three years ago. He had an MRI and a report was sent to his family doctor, stating that his herniation was mild to moderate. His doctor sent him for physiotherapy and when this didn’t alleviate the pain after some months, gave him painkillers and sent him for a series of nerve blocks. After eight months of suffering, both physically and mentally, his doctor became frustrated with my son and told him that he shouldn’t be feeling this much pain based on his MRI report and that he believed that the next step would be for my son to see a psychiatrist. My son felt helpless and desperate. A radiologist friend, who had himself suffered with chronic pain for years, decided to look at the original MRI. His conclusion was that the herniation was severe and that the nerve block that my son was receiving could not possibly reach my son’s problem area. My son had surgery and is doing well.

I tell this story for two reasons. Firstly, to demonstrate the either/or approach and the resulting separation of the physical and mental. Secondly, my son’s suffering was increased tremendously because of the lack of kindness and understanding that he received from his family doctor. My son wanted to feel understood and heard. He needed empathy.

Empathy is understanding how someone else feels and being able to put yourself in their shoes. Receiving empathy validates a person’s feelings and helps them feel understood and less alone. Empathy alone can diminish feelings of anxiety, fear or depression. You don’t have to have the same experience as someone else to have empathy. I explained it to my 12 year old daughter,who did not understand her friend’s fear of dogs, like this: “You love dogs so you can’t understand why someone would feel terrified. Are you afraid of something?” Of course the answer was yes. “Don’t look at what your friend is afraid of. Simply understand that she’s afraid. Think of your own fear to help you do this.”

Empathy in doctors is essential to effective medicine. It is not something that doctors should bring into play when they feel that a problem has become weighted on the side of mental illness. It must be in place during every interaction between a doctor and a patient. The absence of empathy makes doctors both less humane and less human. While the physical and emotional may be weighted differently in people, they are always integrally connected. To separate the two would be like severing your legs and believing that they could walk on their own. I find it so interesting that most of us understand that in everyday life, empathy is key. Our personal and professional relationships depend upon it. Why then does this knowledge not reflect the approach of many doctors? Could the fault lie in their training? Perhaps if they were giving the tools to incorporate their feelings and the feelings of their patients into their practice as doctors, things may be different. Without specific training in empathy, and appreciating the importance of emotions in healing, it is understandable why doctors would shy away from empathizing with their patients. No other profession carries the burdens that medicine does. Mistakes matter. Why would a doctor, even those with natural empathy, focus on anything other than what they have been trained to do? The consequences are too enormous.

The medical profession has assumed for too long that doctors will show empathy in their practice of medicine. It seems that there is a breakdown between this assumption and its translation into practice. The time taken to train doctors in empathy should reflect the value of empathy to a doctor’s ultimate goal – healing.

My final comment comes from a place of hope. My son was accepted this year into the Michael G. DeGroote School of Medicine at McMaster University. He began his year with some trepidation. He knew the school did not follow a traditional approach to medicine and was uncertain what to expect. He has enjoyed every moment but I believe of all the things that he has been exposed to thus far, the thing that has spoken directly to the heart of him, has been their human approach to medicine. The school’s emphasis on empathy, kindness and understanding in their future doctors define’s their difference from other schools. Hopefully this school will pioneer schools throughout the world. Hats off to them.

Many eons ago I dragged myself through a master’s degree in clinical psychology. There were six of us in the program and no one was happy. We were all at various stages of questioning our lives. For some of us it was life in general and it’s purpose and for others it was the ability to function in any way, shape or form going forward. Our times together were filled with intense, anxiety ridden and often frantic discussion. Life, from a depressed point of view seemed normal. Seemingly happy people made us feel jealous, which of course we covered up with a big dose of cynicism.

One day one of the six did not show up for class. (let’s call him Bill) After a couple of days, his closest friend (also in the program) swung by his apartment to investigate. He found him unbathed, unfed and suicidal. This friend stayed with him, day and night, for three days, while we all waited in silence born from the most extreme kind of worry. Finally, the feedback we received was that Bill was going to be okay. Bill had chosen life. At the time I joined my friends in relieved chatter, faking that I understood what “choosing life” actually meant. I had suffered with depression from the age of thirteen but even in my darkest moments, I had not contemplated suicide. I was doing my masters in psychology. How could I let anyone know that I didn’t quite grasp the depth of this experience?

More than three decades later I think I understand. All those years ago I thought that somehow I had to “choose life” when I had already chosen it. The human experience is so complicated and at some point I had bought the belief that for me, suicide was not an option. It could have been something I heard  or simply the fact that my anxiety about dying was always greater than my possible desire for it.  For some though, like my friend, it has to be a conscious decision. If you belong to the human race, life is hard. I am no longer conned into believing that life is a piece of cake for some people. I know that if I was given the opportunity to dig deeper that the icing on any person’s cake would be covering some form of angst. When I look for mental health in another person, I don’t look for the presence or absence of anxiety, depression or even psychosis, but instead I look at their attitude towards life and openness to change. Our successful recovery from despair correlates to commitment to life and conversely to our belief that suicide is not an option.

When the possibility of suicide is removed from our belief system, we are able to resolve issues more positively and with greater strength. The idea that suicide could be a solution can immobilize one from moving forward even if the actuality of suicide never occurs. For some people thoughts of suicide are almost comforting and give them a reason for genuine apathy towards their lives. Finding ways to overcome despair, depression or anxiety is extremely difficult and often requires that we dig deep to find resources that seem at times to not be present. If we have not chosen at some point, with total commitment, to live, then I can understand why overcoming these hardships can be impossible.

Choosing life must be at the very core of a person’s existence. Only from that point can one hope to attain a life of personal fulfilment and peace.

Has anyone noticed how parenting ideas swing back and forth over the generations, but when we’re in it, we somehow fail to recognize this fact? Take independence for example. In my grandparents’ day, children of five were expected to pull their weight with responsibilities that would make us gasp today. The generation after that seemed to mollycoddle their young. My mother was brought, daily, a hot lunch to school. I grew up thinking that parenting meant taking care of children as much as possible, for as long as possible. But of course, the trend has transitioned during my parenting lifetime. Terms like “helicopter parents” are thrown out smirkily by those who feel that they are raising their children to be strong independent human beings, while the rest of us feel a little guilty every time we edit our child’s essay or do their laundry, but we do it anyway.

I feel like taking a stand on this. Is independence really so wonderful? Don’t we also, at the same time, value our children’s ability to be in touch with their emotions and their capacity to connect with others? I believe that a certain amount of dependence is natural and necessary in all of us. In our world today, it scares me to think how easy it is for any of us to become lost in cyberspace, connecting with others by BBM, Facebook or email. In relation to this dependence, is not our hovering over our children at least of the human kind?

I think that a lot of people believe that children who are overly dependent on their parents/families will achieve less, think less critically and have less successful relationships. Is this really true? Speaking personally, and as a definite “helicopter parent,” I can say with conviction, that my children, at least, have proved this premise wrong. From my perspective, the only thing that has resulted from “dependence” has been family cohesiveness, a sense of security and an overall happiness with what we all share.

I believe in moderation. I’m not suggesting that I want to live my children’s lives for them, but I will continue to, happily and guilt-free, take their outstretched arms when they are offered.

After 4 days of bat terror, we finally felt safe and convinced that said bat had left the premises. Last night during America’s got talent, right in the middle of a particularly high rendition of operatic singing, the black terror of the night appeared (from nowhere), sending Russ and I under the covers and Adam screaming from the room in a pitch to further incite the bat! Said bat now escapes our room to the rest of the house. Once again Adam and Dustin swat viciously, missing by miles due mainly to their own terror. So, once again we lost the bat!!!! No pest company will come because they said that it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. And now we’ve been advised to either catch it somehow and check it for rabies or go for rabies injections because people often do not even feel bat bites if they’re sleeping! My usual amount of barely manageable free-floating anxiety has reached new heights. Any advice or help (preferably physical) would be greatly appreciated! (possibly even to the end of my days)

Usually, when I sit down to write something, I have been inspired to do so. Today, not so. My son is going in tomorrow for a second back surgery. Since the last one some five months ago, he has not been pain free. However, a few weeks ago his bearable pain crossed the line into unbearable. Convinced he had re-herniated he managed to get a quick MRI (thanks Pete) and a quick appointment with his Ortho surgeon. He was right and very luckily his surgeon agreed to perform surgery almost immediately.

We grow and learn from suffering. Period. So what lessons have we all learned so far through this painful experience.

My son has learned who his “bad time” friends are. They know who they are. He has learned just how much his family loves him. He has also learned that he truly has a wonderful wife with incredible patience and understanding. He has learned that he can bear things that he would have previously thought unbearable. We have all learned that people who understand pain are more compassionate. We have learned that those who don’t understand will often diminish the experience of others so that they might feel better about their own helplessness. We have all learned that the most dangerous people are those who believe that they know everything. This kind of arrogance creates the greatest weakness in human beings.

My husband and I have sadly learned that the professions that we believed to be the most caring are the ones where we sometimes find the least. We have learned to advocate. We have learned to stand strong from a weakened state. We have learned that we can’t fix all of our children’s pain but that we can do our best to hear them. We have learned to take one day at a time. We have learned that even with our history of people pleasing, we have limits. We have learned that our son’s happiness and our loyalty to that is more important than any social embarrassment that we may ever feel.

With experience, I do not see things more simply but realize that they are more complex than we can grasp. My growth as a human being is often more about understanding what things aren’t rather than what they are. For example, I choose a more holistic approach towards my body because I realize that no single discipline can explain it all. So yes, I am that “go to” person if you want to be put in contact with an Acupuncturist, Homeopath, Naturopath, Nutritionist, Psychologist or Chinese doctor or if you want to know about various forms of meditation – traditional or alternative. I believe that when I visit my doctor (because of course western medicine has a place in the scheme of everything), I have the right to be a part of the process. So when I stepped on a rusty nail the other day and paid a visit to the doctor’s office for a tetanus update, I was horrified to read a sign that read: PLEASE LIMIT YOUR COMPLAINTS TO ONE PER VISIT. Wow, just how far have we not come! Aren’t doctors themselves trained to view many symptoms in order to make a diagnosis. How do I know that the pain in my left toe is not related to the nausea that I feel. I simply don’t understand this policy. Can anyone? Have I misunderstood something? I feel, sadly, that this is more a sign of the general state of medicine in Canada and overworked (and underpaid) general practitioners than a reflection of the attitudes of doctors who have worked long and hard to understand their patients as whole human beings.

My father-in-law recently died. I will miss him and wish him happiness and fulfilment in his journey ahead. Pa, as he was fondly known, was not highly educated in the traditional sense but he was a student of life. He taught a love of family because he loved his so much. He taught laughter because he understood the subtlety of humour. He taught a love of animals by showing how different and beautiful that love can be. He was unconcerned with what “others” thought of him but very concerned with what we, his family, did. He often told my children things that made me cringe at the inappropriateness of them. But he knew something because all his grandchildren loved him for that. He appreciated our love and attention and never focussed on our lack of it. (Unless we forgot to kiss him hello. Now that was trouble!) Personally, I always felt he understood me without needing explanations. When my father died 24 years ago I remember that Pa felt like a solid person next to me. He was the first person I called when I crashed my car into a stationary one on a rainy night. He always gave me the benefit of the doubt and saw my good intentions even when I made mistakes. We had a connection, him and I, that is built on years of that kind of unconditional love. Thank you Pa. XX

My oldest son, Ilan and my niece Tamryn spoke at his funeral. Their words were heartfelt and I believe their grandfather would have appreciated them greatly. In essence they were both saying something similar. How did he make his mark in this world? It is not so much about the things that he did but how he affected the lives of those those around him. The passing on of values and how we treat our family and fellow humans is our true legacy, is it not?

Yesterday, Gabi and I were watching a slide show of photos taken about a year ago, with my 3 year old nephew, Aden. Gabi was amazed and then concerned that Aden did not remember the events (in this case, a zoo) depicted by the pictures. Later she expressed that it seemed a waste to take young kids to anything because they didn’t remember them. Our conversation went as follows:

Me: Aden loves Polar bears, right?

Gabi: Yes.

Me: Well, he saw Polar bears at that zoo for the first time. And then perhaps a couple of months later he saw a picture of a polar bear and that sparked his interest. At that time he probably related that to the one he saw at the zoo. Maybe 6 months later he saw another polar bear and became very excited even though he didn’t remember the other ones. Memories build on each other like that. All experiences are important even though we may not remember all of them.

Gabi: Yes! And sometimes photos remind us of things and we think we remember them even when we don’t.

Me: That’s the purpose of photos.

Gabi: And sometimes people remind you. Like I think I remember when Dani pulled my arm and dislocated it (sorry Dan, she’ll never let you live this one down) but I don’t think I do. I just think people have told me the story so much that I think I remember it.

Me: Yip. You’re right.

So while Aden may not “remember” Pa, he may remember my ingrained game of bouncing him on my knees chanting “dumpie, dumpie.” Thanks Pa.

We lit fireworks last night and they were a tad pathetic. I am undertaking to improve our choosing techniques for next time. A little internet research, perhaps? Gabi took the whole thing personally because she had helped choose them and of course her brothers were very vociferous about their feelings. I tried intervening but it was received with confusion. “But she didn’t make them?” True. Another undertaking is to build my daughter’s resilience and teach her what she is and isn’t responsible for. On a bright note they were perfect fireworks for my nephew, Aden, to break his teeth on. Their tameness for us appeared to be borderline scary for him but just enough for him to feel oh so very brave!

The week ahead is going to be hectic in a great way. My youngest sister is getting married in our garden and my sisters from Israel and California are flying in for the occasion. All five sisters together – what a treat. Also making the trip are my three nephews, a wife and an almost wife. It’s going to be great family time. Beds to prepare. Must fly!

The school office is a scary place for most kids. Here’s a conversation I had with Gabi yesterday:

“Our lunch ladies are so mean!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“They were teasing this girl I know and calling her fat and chubby and laughing,” she replied

“What?! These are grown-ups, right?” I asked.

“Yes. I asked my friend if she liked what they were saying and she said no but that it was ok. So I told them to stop because my friend didn’t want them to say that.” Gabi explained.

“What did they say?” I asked. – These were adults?!

“They said that my friend knew that they were joking and did I want to go to the office with them?” my daughter replied.

“What did you say?”

“I said sorry and walked away. That made me scared.”

I was very proud of Gabi and told her so. She clearly felt that she had failed her friend and I explained to her that she had done something that most people wouldn’t have done. We had a big discussion about the office and why she felt it was a scary place. She said that the office was a place you went to when you had done something wrong. I replied that while that was true sometimes that it was also a place to go to for protection or help. She didn’t look convinced. And here’s another problem. She does not want me to “deal” with anything and I have to respect her wishes if I want her to continue to feel comfortable sharing with me. Any suggestions anyone?

The last few months have seen me running next to life and barely managing to keep up. I am in the process of realizing that unless I make time to do the things in my master plan, I may never get around to them. Russ and I spent a week in Mexico doing just about nothing. Our biggest decision was what we were going to eat for dinner. But… I had time to write (part of my master plan) so that was good. It’s not about making decisions and then sticking to them. Experience of life is dynamic so we have to constantly check our progress and where we are. It is so easy, as I have discovered many times, to slip into a rut of existence. Weeks, months and sometimes years pass and we realize that we haven’t got to that one thing that will bring us happiness and fulfilment. Why are we sometimes so sabotaging in nature? I think it’s partly because we live in a “too much” world right now. We may have only lived to 40 in the 18th century but we probably got more done! But a think a part of it is that we are also emotionally lazy. Anything great and worth pursuing takes effort and procrastination becomes our greatest accomplice. OK, that’s my pep talk to myself!

The key to growing is believing that you always have room to grow. It’s strange to me that people often believe the opposite, limiting their growth. Comments like, “I’m too old to change” or “I’m set in my ways” are just sad. How can any of us have the presumption to believe that we can possibly know all there is to know in 80 or so years. Change is hard. I get that. It is comfortable to stay in the known and transition from one state to another can feel very uneasy but let’s face it, nothing worth having is easy. Children provide us often with the most unimagined rewards but getting to that point requires hard work, exhaustion and sometimes despair. Do any of us sail through relationships, careers? But it has to be worth the effort. We have to keep our goals in mind and refuse to settle. We have to work on fear. Fear, the very thing that closes our minds and “keeps us safe” also leaves us fragile and vulnerable and unable to achieve our own greatness. Sometimes fear does keep us safe but we need to learn the difference between those times and the times when it needs to be stared right in the face and challenged. Does aging make this too hard? I’m 52 and I can’t speak for an 80 year-old. Do we just become too tired? I refuse to believe this and if I’m wrong, I will go down kicking and screaming!

As parents, one of the fine lines we walk is between attentiveness to our child’s emotions and remaining in charge. This is particularly difficult when dealing with a strong willed child who is very emotional! Speaking from experience, it is very easy to get caught up in the emotional side and equally easy to lose sight of the “being in charge” one! Our married son and his wife have been staying with us while he recovers from his back surgery and the other day he stated bluntly, that in his opinion, our 10 year old daughter ran the house. He also gently pointed out that I have a particular problem witnessing pain in my kids. Hmmm…. When did he become so insightful!

I am aware of this battle. I research and write about these exact issues! How then do I lose sight of them in myself? It’s called being human. Maintaining balance between what I bring to the parenting experience and my child’s input, is a challenge. I want to be the best parent that I can be and for me this means remaining open to new ideas, having a willingness to look at myself and being committed to change. These are the things I work on constantly so that when my son speaks, I listen.

Does this mean that I will become the perfect parent? No. But I will aim for better. (Read Joe Rich’s book, Parenting, The Long Journey)

We are now 9 days post surgery and Ilan is doing well. His back has healed wonderfully. I really believe the arnica he took helped a lot in that regard. I’m a firm believer. The week was pretty rough. Having had a few surgeries myself I should have remembered the experience. Aside from the terrible pain it is an emotional roller coaster. Anyway I think his feelings of fragility are less and he is feeling more optimistic about outcome. Onward and upward.

Dustin came in from university and because Ilan and his wife, Carrie are staying with us for a bit, we had a full house for the first time in a long time. In this honour, my husband and I decided to make a scrumptious dinner last night. We don’t have a barbecue yet so had to pan-fry the chicken, which had been marinaded in, amongst other things, brown sugar. In no time at all, the smoke set off the smoke alarm and then it was simply a comedy of errors. We forgot  that the smoke alarm was connected to the alarm company and unbeknown to anyone, the phone had been left off the hook. (Ok, fine, I did it!) By the time the alarm company contacted my husband on his cell, they had already notified the fire department. Despite attempts to halt the dispatch, lo and behold, 2 fire trucks with many firemen duly came. They were jovial and understanding and all ended well.

After the week we’ve had, the experience felt like light relief!

Tomorrow my son gets his leg pain fixed! He never thought he’d feel excited for surgery but he is! A little scared too, of course. We are all looking forward to his pain free future. It has been a long five months for all of us. I don’t even attempt to put myself in his shoes, literally and figuratively. Lan, I am rooting for you with every cell in my body – with much love.

Here is the surgery that he is having done (for those medical junkies like myself). Click here.

Check out Karen Nemeth’s guest blog on mychildfeels.com. Karen is the author of “Many Languages, One Classroom: Teaching Dual and English Language Learners: (2009). With the multicultural issues that our classrooms face today, Karen’s perspective is heartfelt and thoughtful.

I think the definition of a move completion is when you can use your computer! So while we still live amongst boxes and dust, I can check email and facebook and have access to the internet and that’s what counts. Haha.

First night in our new home was interesting and not quite what I had anticipated. I knew Gabi would be unsettled but I wasn’t prepared for her extreme distress. If she could have walked to our old house, I think she would have. I kept on reminding myself about something that I have learned about parenting and life – nothing stays the same. I’m happy to report that we are now 5 days later and things are much better. As I write this I hear my daughter happily playing with her friend and excitedly showing her around her new home. I felt strange and unsettled myself the first night, as did my husband and my 24 year-old son, so I can only imagine how much more frightening it must have felt for Gabi.

Must go, another box is calling my name!

Only 2 more sleeps! We move homes in 3 days and it is hectic! We’ve lived in the same home for 15 years and I had forgotten how much work a move is. I did not anticipate having to go through the overwhelming accumulation of years of unnecessary stuff! As exhausting as it has been, there is something very cleansing about a “spring clean,” albeit in winter! Thank you Mr. Garbage person for schlepping extra weight these past weeks.

My poor son (the one who just got married) has been nursing leg pain for many weeks now. He oscillates between determination to recover and frustration. Can’t say I blame him. Physical pain can feel physically and emotionally draining. After weeks of physio, massage, acupuncture and bed rest he is now trying, with a large degree of optimism, a back decompression clinic. He is booked to go on honeymoon to Mexico on the 19th so the clock is ticking!

Gabi wrote a book report on “Boom… Boom… Boom…” and I was invited in for “show and tell.” I always love speaking to kids and this was no exception. I had now read to grade 5’s before and was surprised how attentive they were. Their understanding of the book was at a higher level and most interesting. My baby is growing up!

Must go. Another box is calling my name.

Check out a new post on mychildfeels.com by Jennifer Kolari entitled “Ask Jennifer Kolari: Childhood Anxiety.” This touches many of us and well worth reading.

My daughter Gabi was home sick from school and we decided to climb into bed and watch a movie. With a little prodding from me (shameless, I know) she decided that she wanted to see Julie and Julia, directed by Nora Ephron. I loved it! Oops, sorry, “we loved it!”

I won’t spoil the movie for anyone but let me say that if you love food (which I do) and a good story, you will love this movie. For me, there’s something about being invited into someone’s kitchen that feels more intimate than being invited into their bedroom. I’ve always had the belief that people who really enjoy food feel more passionate about life in general. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Also, for a writer who dreams about being whisked away by a great publisher, the film was a fantasy. Sigh…

Gabi is in Grade 5 in an Arts Program and is loving it! There are 4 general categories: Visual Arts, Drama, Music and Dance. She is comfortable in the last three but has mixed feelings about the first. Here’s some background.

Her 3 brothers, her father and I believe we can’t draw. This is emphasized by the fact that my sister, her husband and their two girls are amazing visual artists. Their oldest daughter and our youngest son went to preschool together and the difference even then was astounding. So much so that she became extremely upset one day because she believed that her cousin was going to “fail” preschool because he couldn’t draw. My 3 sons took their lead from my husband and I and good-naturedly accepted that we had other strengths. In fact, they liked having their cousins to lean on when they need help with projects!

Gabi, on the other hand, hard on herself at the best of times, does not enjoy that her strength doesn’t lie in her “drawing” skills. It has caused her much distress and heartache. It took us a while to realize that the problem was, that, unlike our other children, she loves to draw. So we bought her instruction books, encouraged her and praised her and stood helplessly by for the most part while she continued to berate herself.

This past week changed our perspective. We had conformed to the “normal” expectation of art and felt that a true artist could replicate objects, in particular the human form. I’ve lost count of the times that I have said, “I can’t draw a stick figure.” Anyway, Gabi and I paid our local arts store a visit and she chose a pack of two canvases and some acrylic paints. Feeling like a real artist she sat down to paint and I left her to it.

“I’ve finished it, Mom,” she said. I was truly surprised at what I saw. It was absolutely beautiful and made me understand that art is not only about form but about colour, feeling and passion.

Everyone who wants to be can be an artist. It took my ten year old daughter to show me that.

I  babysat my nephew Aden of two and a half, for four days. He is an absolute joy! It is refreshing being around a child this age because they are completely honest. They haven’t learnt not to be! He also helped me put a new perspective on something that I spend a lot of time considering.

Imagination. My observations of people have shown me that generally speaking, those with greater imaginations are able to achieve greater things in their lives. Unfortunately, there are few of us who are able to fully engage our imaginations in our daily lives. I think it’s because we see imagination as an innocence that can only exist in childhood. It occurs because children really believe in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy or Mickey Mouse. My nephew showed me that this isn’t entirely true. We took him to Reptilia, a zoo for reptiles and left with a happy little boy and a newly purchased green snake. When we returned home, my son Dustin named the snake “Harry” and it stuck. Harry went everywhere with Aden and he spoke to the snake constantly.

At some point I was on the floor with him and getting into the spirit of his imaginative play. “Oh no Harry!” I said “Don’t bite me!”

Aden promptly replied.”Don’t worry Marshie. He can’t bite. He’s just pretend.” And then almost condescendingly he added, “he’s just plastic.”

Wow! Children know it’s pretend and yet they can still become immersed. Which means we can too. I began thinking and remembered years ago an incident with Gabi when she was about seven. She had just begun losing teeth and was very excited each time with the tooth fairy’s arrival and deposit. One day, she came home from school and announced, “my friend told me that the tooth fairy is not real – that it’s really my parents!” I felt sad that this bubble was about to burst and spent some time trying to convince her that the tooth fairy did indeed exist. Eventually she wore me down and I told her the truth. With that, she ran to her room and cried for ages. I was puzzled. She had really wanted to know. She had even said things like, “I’m not a baby any more. You can tell me.”

Reflecting now, I think that Gabi knew all along that the tooth fairy wasn’t real but she really wanted to believe that she was. Believing was adding joy in her life and we took that away by removing the myth. I’m not suggesting that we lie to our kids but I do think that we should spend more time teaching them the importance of holding onto their imaginations. It is the super power of children and if we foster it correctly it can become the super power of adults too.

Our very cute and mischievous Havanese puppy, Oreo, ate Gabi’s homework. It was a project that she had worked on for a week and she was completely devastated. My husband and I rallied and helped her recreate it and fortunately we were successful!

I learned a few things that day. I learned that the cliche “the dog ate my homework” actually exists. I learned that it is possible for a ten-year old girl to cry for a solid 30 minutes and gush enough tears to fill a stock pot. I learned that love overcomes all. Gabi forgave Oreo when all was said and done. And finally, I learned that often, out of the worst situations arises the best and most memorable ones. We ended the evening in giggles and Gabi had great fun taking in her chewed up project to show her class the following day!

Our almost fourteen year old Shipoo, Flash is sick. Actually he’s been sick for a while with an enlarged heart and two leaky valves. It really only hit home a couple of weeks ago when he began collapsing. At first it happened after he ran up two flights of stairs and but as the week progressed he seemed to need less and less activity to induce an episode. It reached a point when barking alone could topple him. Frantic we rushed him to his Cardiologist. I honestly was bracing myself for “the discussion” that every dog-owner dreads but instead she discussed adjusting medication. So we juggled a few meds and after a few days, lo and behold, he was back to his “old self.”

This experience really made me think. I asked myself, “Why was I so ready to think the worst?” Yes, it will come, but what a waste to live it before it does. Flash has been an amazing dog. He is loved by all who know him. So, from here on I am going to give him the respect that he deserves. He is happy. We don’t believe he has pain. He doesn’t know that he’s sick. So what right do I have to surround him with negativity. So Flashie, if you fall over, we’ll wait patiently for you to get up and if we have to carry you up and down the stairs, we will. This is the very least we can do for you to thank you for your years of selfless love.

My sincere thanks to Sue Scheff for reviewing my book “Boom… Boom… Boom…” and for her great endorsement.

Sue  founded the organization Parent’s Universal Resource Experts (P.U.R.E.), an association that provides families with valuable information and resources for their children and teens that are at risk. Visit Sue’s website to read more about her dynamic work. You can also follow Sue on Twitter.

Having suffered since childhood from depression, I was deeply moved by an article I read on washingtonpost.com written by Daniele Seiss, entitled “Running For My Life“.

I began running to get fit and to shed some pounds and also discovered, accidentally, the huge benefits that pounding the earth has on my mental state. While I can never presume to understand Daniele’s personal “hell”, I understood as it related to me her description of depression as being an “isolating disease.”

I also remembered my pain in childhood because no one, not even myself, understood what was happening to me and why I felt so different. I blame nobody in the generation before mine because I understand that they were working within the constraints of their era. I believe, with exceptions, that every generation produces a unique parenting imprint that is related to the mood of the world at that time.

After years of war and depression, both physical and emotional, baby-boomer parents needed joy and a lightness of spirit in their lives. It was time. These parents were scarred themselves and mine were no exception. Being protected from truth in a time of extreme fear, I believe can produce an anxiety with no name – the worst kind. Both my parents were victims of this time. I was a product of their perceptions.

We cannot and should not forget our past. In our bigger world we need to analyze and dissect our history so that we don’t repeat our mistakes and so that we can repeat our triumphs. Just the same, we need to understand our personal history so that we can understand who we are and why we became that way. More importantly, understanding our past allows us to shape our future with conscious intention and by doing this, have a far greater chance of achieving personal happiness.

While depression has definitely lost much of its social stigma, there are still many who view it as a shameful disease. Many also believe that depression completely defines who someone is and not just one aspect of that person.

For these reasons, I choose the people I share with, but I no longer hide.

Our oldest son, Ilan, got married last week. And our ten year old daughter, Gabi, began her first day in grade 5 today. Having children spread over 16 years of age provides for an interesting existence.

Ilan (26) married Carrie, now his beautiful wife. It’s very hard to put into words the feeling of that experience. But try and stop me!

There is certainly a feeling of “OMG, I have a son who’s getting married!” There is also a feeling of excitement and anticipation after months of preparation. Mostly though, there is a feeling of gratitude. Gratitude that he chose an amazing person. Gratitude that they found each other.  Gratitude that she demonstrates compassion for his struggles and pride and joy for his achievements. Gratitude that we love them both and they seem to feel the same way. Gratitude that we get along so well with her family. Gratitude that my son seems so happy.

And then there’s resolve. I have strong feelings of resolve to always know my place and to offer opinions only when asked. I resolve to always try and understand personal boundaries and respect them. I resolve to keep an open mind and to continue growing and learning from my children.

OK, enough introspection! The wedding was beautiful! The flowers were amazing, the bride and groom looked incredible as did everyone in the wedding party, including me! I felt great! The band was seriously unbelievable  – Grooveyard. My daughter-in-law, usually a woman of few words, gave a lengthy, heartfelt speech.

It touched me and many others. Two of Ilan’s best friends also spoke. Their speech was humorous but really showed a deep understanding of Ilan. The humor continued when Adam and Dustin (Ilan’s two younger brothers) sang a medley of songs with their own lyrics. Hilarious! Little sister Gabi spoke which amazed me. I was so proud of her. I knew that she was anxious but she did it anyway and very sweetly I might add. All in all a “couldn’t be more perfect” evening.

Yesterday, we began a new school year. Walking Gabi into the playground and witnessing hundreds of boisterous children clamoring to be heard I could really understand her anxiety. It feels like chaos and for children who feel less secure in chaos it can be a nightmare.

On the way to school she said, “Mom, I don’t feel so brave today.” I thought that was a wonderful thing to say for so many reasons. How many ten year olds know what they are feeling and can express it so eloquently? We did lots of hugging and kissing and I will be sure to be at the school early because I know that my coming late is one of her anxieties. I never am, but she fears it and that’s what’s important. So my plan for the next few days until I see she is feeling more comfortable is to give her lots of love and empathic listening.

I havea new article posted today at mychildfeels.com called “Name and NAIM Your Child“.

This is a great new website dedicated to exploring feelings in children from all perspectives.  I’ve become a regular contributor there.

Enjoy!

Our oldest son is getting married and we are now counting down the days.

Who knew that putting individuals in preassigned seats could be so time-consuming? My daughter’s dress is still at the dressmaker. We’ve only had one fitting and I’m trying to not panic but as the days go on it’s becoming more difficult! Other than that, everything seems to be in order.

Months of preparation and “poof!” it’s over in one day. I am determined to enjoy every minute of the day. I hope everyone else does too.

On a more spiritual level – yikes! Am I really old enough to have a married child?? My husband tells me that soon we’ll be grandparents and the worst thing about being a grandfather is that you get to wake up beside a grandmother! Very funny!

I’ve become a regular contributor at a new website called mychildfeels.com.  It’s a website dedicated to exploring feelings in children from all perspectives.

Check out my article “Anxiety In Children” posted there today.

I know from my personal experience that writing about something that is on my mind is helpful to me in processing it.

I am very afraid of spiders. I would rather face a lion (which I did, albeit with a game ranger and a rifle in South Africa) than come within 3 feet of a spider, no matter how small.

Titivating (my father loved this word) in front of the mirror the other day something caught the corner of my eye. It was a small spider, but one of those thicker set one’s, you know, the kind that jump. With no-one around at the time I had to capture the creature on my own.  I  ran to grab some kleenex. To my complete dismay, it had disappeared when I returned to the scene. Now what?

I became hyper-vigilant and spent a ridiculous amount of time looking for this poor thing but it outsmarted me. I was left feeling that it would jump out at every moment until enough time passed and I could convince myself that somehow it had “gone.”

I now take a deep breath and assess. Did this writing help. Hmm… Back to the keyboard!

My heartfealt thanks Dr. Michele Borba for her wonderful review of my book “Boom… Boom… Boom…“.  She posted the review entitled “Why I Love Boom… Boom… Boom… by Marsha Jacobson” on her blog today. It was greatly appreciated and I feel honored that Dr. Borba has taken time out from her busy schedule to read my book and comment positively on it.

Dr. Michele Borba is an internationally renowned educator and award-winning author who is recognized for her practical, solution-based strategies to stregthen child’s behavior, self-esteem, character, and social development, and to build strong families.  She is also a sought-after motivational speaker. Her new book titled “The Big Book of Parenting Solutions” will be released September 2009.

In this episode: discussing the connection between intelligence, emotional intelligence, and success.

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In this video, I make reference to my recent blog post entitled “No One Feels The Way I Do” where I wrote about sharing with my cousins my struggles with anxiety and their reactions.

Have you ever shared your experience with anxiety with someone?  How did they react?  I’d love to hear your stories and perspectives!

I promised in a recent Q&A video that I would answer the question about the inspiration behind my children’s book “Boom… Boom… Boom…”

Five years ago, my daughter and I had a day that changed both our lives.

The day was warm and we were well into summer, my favorite season. It was a day like any other.  In fact better because I was lunching out with friends. My daughter Gabi, who was 4 years old at the time, had a friend over and she happily kissed me goodbye. She was really comfortable with her nanny, who had taken care of her since she was just a few months old.

A few hours later, I was driving home with my friend after lunch when she turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go shopping?”

I’ve thought many times about that moment because as someone who rarely turns down an invitation to shop, I did that day. For some reason I wanted to go home and said so.

As I walked into my house, the first thing I heard were my daughter’s screams. I opened the back door and collided with her. I asked, “Gabi, what’s wrong? Are you girls fighting? Where’s Nanny?”

“She’s in the pool!” she screamed.

The next twenty minutes felt like hours and it felt like time stood still. In fact, time simply became unimportant. I peered over our deck and saw the nanny lying at the bottom of the pool. It is this image that stays with me. For months afterwards, it would pop into my head unexpectedly and hold me prisoner to a crippling anxiety.

That day I discovered how I act in a crisis.

Throwing off clothing as I ran, I dived into the pool and somehow found the strength to drag the nanny’s lifeless, water-logged body to the side of the pool and onto the ledge. Her face was blue and her eyes were glazed. I began to perform CPR. Between breaths I pleaded with her to breathe.

And she finally did.

During the chaos, I sent Gabi four houses down the road to get my friend. That I sent my four year old daughter to do this, weighed on me for a long time. By the time that they both returned, the nanny was breathing and now with another adult present, I called 911.

Gabi’s nanny made a full recovery and was celebrating her birthday four days later. Gabi and I on the other hand had only begun our journey of recovery and discovery. I cried many tears that year and I like to think now that each one cleansed some little part of me.

Surprisingly, Gabi had no issues with swimming after the event but was left with a debilitating separation anxiety which affected so many many areas of her young life. She stopped going to friend’s houses and birthday parties. She became terrified whenever I went out the house. She had problems going to sleep at night and wouldn’t have anyone other than my husband or I take care of her.

She also hated us leaving her at school and we began receiving calls regularly from the school office with requests from Gabi to pick her up as she wasn’t feeling well. She also had no desire to talk about the incident. We eventually realized that we needed help.

We tried a few different therapists, which really didn’t seem to help at all. Then one day a mother at Gabi’s school referred me to Jennifer Kolari, calling her a “miracle worker.” I was definitely ready for a miracle and contacted Jennifer.

She was more than that. She blew life again into Gabi and me. We both loved her and Gabi loved going to her. I am happy to say that today, at 9 years old, Gabi is a happy little girl. When I felt that Gabi was going to be ok, I began to focus on myself.

I discovered that trauma or not, everyone can benefit from therapy. One of the things that I felt compelled to do was write. I wrote all the time. I wrote about my childhood, my experiences and my feelings. I would highly recommend writing to anyone who wants to process their feelings and live a positive life.

Somewhere along the way I began writing about parenting and parenting anxious children. I have four children and they have all had their fair share of anxiety. They are fine with me sharing this because we all feel that anxiety, depression and any other mind/body related illness is nothing to be ashamed of. We see it as a strength to admit to our feelings in an open and accepting way.

And so, together with my background in Clinical Psychology, being a parent and my life experiences I felt well prepared to write “Boom… Boom… Boom…” and so I did!

This book is the first of what I call the Feel Ease Series. I’ve begun working on the next one.  It’s entitled “Seven of Everything” and will be a story about separation anxiety.

For a year after the incident I was not capable of clear thought.  I felt like it was the worst day of my life and nothing good would ever come of it.

I now know that often the best things arise from the very worst.

I feel excited and honored to have written a guest post for Maw Books Blog.  Posted today, it is entitled “Reading with Feeling” and I wrote about to use stories to help children explore their feelings.

Maw Books Blog is a wonderful book review blog site and, if you haven’t already, well worth bookmarking. Natasha Maw is a mother of two young children and pays special attention to the value of books for children.  As I believe that the books kids read should enlighten them in positive ways, I like this.

I also love finding out that the person behind the pen is nice!  Watch her videos of her and her boys. They are very sweet.

One of the great lessons I have learned from my children is to say what I mean. Children are experts in many ways and one of these areas of expertise is being able to see right through innuendos. Non-verbal “speaking” has as much impact on kids as verbal.

When my youngest son, who is now grown up, was little, he once asked me, “What are you saying to aunty Dalya?” I was confused because we hadn’t been talking.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“Yes, you always talk to her with your eyes!” he said impatiently. Wow, not only was it true but I was amazed that he could see that.

When I had my first child, I floundered, I agonized, I sweated. I had no idea what it meant to be a parent and somehow I felt that I needed some kind of formal training. Reading parenting books is great and helpful but really, really (and I say this emphatically) the best guide is right before us in our children.They will always tell us when we are doing something right and when we are not. Our job as parents is to learn to listen and to respect what we hear. This does not mean no discipline or teaching. If we manage to find the right frequency for our child, both of these are a cinch.

Children need the truth. They flourish with the truth. This means answering all their questions honestly even if we sometimes have to say, “I’m not going to answer that.” I will often explain to my young daughter that I am choosing not to share something with her but that I will when she’s older.

Truth, however, is not just answering questions. Truth is believing what you say because children know the difference. It is also validating their truth.

My middle son has dyslexia. When he was younger he was not doing well at school and would frequently anguish over this. For a long time, my husband and I would reply that we knew how smart he was despite how he was doing. Firstly, we were worried, which he no doubt picked up on and secondly, we should have explored the way he was feeling because they were his real feelings.

It was not until I was given a book by a friend called “Smart but Feeling Dumb” by Harold N. Levinson that I realized what I was doing. It wasn’t so much the content of the book, which is quite interesting, but more the title which struck home for me. I understood for the very first time how discounting it feels to anyone when they are told that they are not feeling what they are indeed feeling.

So in conclusion, check in with yourself by asking the question, “Am I saying what I feel and am I respecting what my child feels?” It’s a simple philosophy that could make a big difference in how you parent.

Can anyone explain the blood and water thing when it comes to family?

We’ve just said our sad goodbyes to my sister-in-law, my seventeen-year old nephew and fourteen-year-old niece. They’ve gone back to South Africa and chances are that we won’t see them for another couple of years. But the connection is like an invisible cord woven from granny’s wool. Even my daughter, who has only seen them five or six times, spent three weeks draped around her girl cousin. And my niece didn’t mind sleeping on the pull out bed in Gabi’s room despite the four year age difference and the fact that there were free beds in our home.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting that we don’t have to work really hard at family relationships. We do. It’s just that when they are forged, their mettle seems stronger. And easier. Easier to hug, easier to tease, easier to relax.

I’ll really miss these guys.  Thank goodness for Facebook!

In this episode: discipline and emotional intelligence.  Topics include disciplining from baby to teenager, helping parents handle their feelings, and how to incorporate emotional intelligence in discipline.

As promised in the podcast, here is a link to the book made reference to.  It is called “Get Out of My Life, but First Could You Drive Me & Cheryl to the Mall: A Parent’s Guide to the New Teenager” by Anthony E. Wolf.

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Please continue to write to me with your questions!

I’d love to hear from you about books that have really grabbed hold of your child. You know, the kind of book that has to go everywhere with them.

I find that these connections are often not accidental but are a child’s way of expressing a feeling.

Anyone agree or disagree with me?

I’ve decided to change the format for this videos slightly from a “faq” format to a “q&a” one. Before, I would answer many questions per video however I felt the videos ran too long.  Instead, now I’ll be anwering one question per video so that the content is much more specific.

I love answering questions about children, emotional intelligence, anxiety, Boom… Boom… Boom…,  or anything else from visitors to my site.  Please feel free to write to me with yours.

As a young mother I noticed that from an early age my children were drawn to stories that explored feelings of fear, sadness and anger. I remember clearly my eldest son, who is now 26, loved a particular book called “Sooty‘s Painting Trip” by Lesley Young (seems to be out of print now).  In this book, a bear accidentally spills some paint all over the floor.

The bear was mortified over what he had done and was scolded for his mistake. My son would cry every time we reached this page in the book and was so upset by it that we had to remove the book from his room before he could settle down to fall asleep.

The very next day he would bring the exact same book to me and say, “Read, Mommy, read!” At this time I had already received my Masters degree in Clinical Psychology and was familiar with the many theories on child development. None of these adequately explained what I was observing in my son.

I pondered over the strangeness of this for many years until I began exploring the concept of emotional intelligence. Through reading and life observations, I came to understand that all emotions are part of our human experience, which we need to understand in order to become strong, emotionally well-rounded adults.

In our desire for our children to be happy, the most desirable emotion for most people, we forget that happiness is only one part of our emotional spectrum. I believe that children intuitively understand that which “grown ups” have almost forgotten: that is, “negative” emotions should be acknowledged, accepted and explored as much as “positive” ones.

We underestimate the importance of raising children to have the ability to recognize, understand and react appropriately to their full array of emotions. This ability has been described as emotional intelligence and it gives children and adults the strength to cope with the stresses that life so reliably delivers.

So it is no surprise that Maurice Sendak‘s “Where the Wild Things Are” appeals widely to children.  It’s position as a “classic children’s book” reasserts this.

It is not our children’s exposure to fearful things that shapes their personality and success. It is how they are taught to process their fear. I for one can’t wait for the movie version of “Where the Wild Things Are” directed by Spike Jonze to be released in October 2009. I look forward to watching it with my daughter. I look forward to the clinging and hugging in the scary parts and mostly I look forward to the discussions it will evoke.

I look forward to our experience of feeling.

In this episode: the role of stories in teaching emotional intelligence – how stories can be used, advice on choosing books, sharing childhood stories, and more.

I also speak about the techniques I applied in my book “Boom… Boom… Boom…”

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At a recent family function, I was sitting and chatting with two cousins whom I have known since my birth. For many years I kept my struggles with anxiety to myself, convinced that I was alone in the way that I felt.

My cousins were interested and curious to know more about my book “Boom… Boom… Boom…” They also wanted to know how it had been conceived. I explained the focus on anxiety and  emotional intelligence. I told them about the importance of helping children understand that it’s okay to feel, accept and communicate with others about their feelings. All their feelings.

Both my cousins then shared with me their personal experiences with anxiety. This heartwarming conversation confirmed two things for me. Firstly, we should never assume that others don’t experience anxiety or related feelings just because they don’t talk about them.  Secondly, sharing with others often encourages others to share with us because they feel safe to do so.

This is a good lesson to teach our children. With four children I have heard many times, “No one feels the way I do.”

I always answer them in the same way, “You’ll be surprised how many do. They just don’t talk about it in the same way that you do.”

I teach my children that anxiety is part of our human condition. Ignoring these feelings gives them a power that they shouldn’t have. Acknowledging and exploring anxiety empowers us in ways that we would not expect.

I’m answering your questions again!

The questions I answer in this episode are:

• Why is it important to be emotionally intelligent?
• My children seem to be happy and content. Should I even bother trying to raise their emotional intelligence? Will this create problems?
• My daughter was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. How should I approach this?

I’d love to hear your question so please feel free to write me using the contact form.

When “Boom… Boom… Boom…” was about to published, I asked child and parent therapist Jennifer Kolari (she also founded Connected Parenting) to read my book and offer her comments.  I was thrilled when she agreed and even more thrilled when I read her comment:

“What a delightful book!  This is a story about a child with very big feelings and deep emotions. It offers parents and children the opportunity to discuss anxiety, what it feels like and what to do about it. How wonderful to read a story where the parent is comforting, validating and really listening to their child. This book will be on my list of recommended reading for the children and families I work with.”

Imagine how excited I was when, a few months later, Jennifer informed me that she would be listing “Boom… Boom.. Boom…” as Recommended Reading in her (now newly) published book by “Connected Parenting” by Penguin Group.  Thank you Jennifer – I am tremendously grateful!

I purchased a copy of the book when it was released and there was a tiny misprint with my name which I would like to comment on in the hope that Jennifer’s intention to direct her readers to me will be realized.  My name was incorrectly credited as “Marsha Jackson” instead of “Marsha Jacobson.” The internet is one big magical mystery to me but I’ve been told that if I connect Marsha Jackson to Marsha Jacobson, then somehow, somewhere, so will Google.

You can purchase Connected Parenting from amazon.ca, amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, or chapters.ca.

Emotional intelligence in children is topic of great importance, and as you may know from reading my blog, a topic I am very passionate about.

In this podcast, I speak about this and also speak more about my book “Boom… Boom… Boom…” as it relates to emotional intelligence.

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[podcast]http://www.marshajacobson.com/podcasts/2009_06_23_001_marshajacobson_podcast.mp3[/podcast]

Congratulations to Jennifer Kolari on her launch of “Connected Parenting.” It was hosted by Parent Books and the atmosphere was wonderful. All who were there believed in the connected parenting approach and in Jennifer. Jennifer has touched my life significantly and I was very happy to share in her success. The book provides parents with hope. Sometimes, as parents, we are so caught up in the things that our children are doing or not doing that we forget to focus on simply connecting with them. The methods in Jennifer’s book reminds us how to show our children that we are listening and that we care. Read “Connected Parenting.” You will be glad that you did!

I’m answering questions submitted by you! I’m hoping to make this a regular feature on marshajacobson.com.

If you have any questions that you would like to ask me, please feel free to write me using the contact form.  I will do my best to answer as many as I can in these videos.

My son Dustin helped me out today and picked up his nine-year old sister from school. I know that she prefers me to get her.  When my cell phone rang and I saw it read “Home” I fully expected a hundred-question conversation. But as she often does, my daughter surprised me. The conversation went something like this:

Very cheerfully, “Hi Mom!”

“Hi Sweetie…” I replied a little guarded.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I have some good news, some bad news and some news that could be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. What do you want first?”

“I’ll take the bad,” I said.

“My tooth chipped…”

“Oh no!” I interupted.

“But it’s the tooth that was about to fall out!”

“That’s not bad news. That’s perfectly fine news! What’s the good/bad news?”

“I forgot to tell you that I have a bake sale tomorrow. Can you make muffins?”

“That’s not bad news either! I’m happy to make muffins.” Now I was really excited for the good news.

“And the good news is that I’m feeling better!”

It took me a moment, but I remembered that she had complained of a sore tummy the night before.

“That’s wonderful news sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

All in all it was a good day. Three bits of good news. Who could ask for more?

How many possibilities are there to think? To behave? To see? To imagine?

Most of us would have trouble putting a number to this question. How gallant we are when we don’t need to be! How we answer this question when we are content is unimportant.

When life throws us challenges, when doors close or slam in our face, when discouragement threatens to overcome our ability to go forward, then how we answer this question becomes all-important. Bravery is only measured by the amount of fear we feel.

When the possibilities that we can count don’t happen for us and we feel disappointed, we often close our eyes to the infinite other possibilities that could be in the very next moment. If we close our eyes we will not see them. The one thing we all know with absolute certainty is that nothing remains the same. Change is reality. It’s non-sensical to know this about the past and yet not believe it about the future. Believing bravely that our futures hold infinite and positive possibilities is the most powerful ignitor of our very essence.

Living bravely, regardless of what we know for certain about our future, is far better than the alternative where possibilities are rendered useless because we choose to ignore them.

My son Adam has a lovely voice and loves to sing. I know there are those who think that I see him through rose-tinted glasses. I see it a little differently.

Why is it that the better we know someone the less acceptable it is to extol their virtues? Shouldn’t this be the exact opposite?

Beginning with ourselves. A pervasive unwritten rule in our society is to not speak highly of ourselves. Bragging, full of ourselves, self-centered are just a few of the words to describe this act. But who is more qualified?

When my son sings how many of you will see what I see? Who sees his goodness? His generosity of spirit? Who looks at the twinkle in his eyes and remembers that he was born with that? Who understands that his love of singing is a far greater accomplishment than any singing ability that he has?

We all exist as separate human beings and spend life times trying to connect with others. Shouldn’t this connection be revered? If this is seen as rose-tinting our vision then I say, “Down with glasses of any other colour!”

Jump. Stand. Run. Walk. Smile. Frown. Cry. Laugh.

Do them all with love, thought and soul.  Then, you will be living.

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Toronto. At 11 degrees, we all felt that Spring had finally arrived. After a winter of running on my treadmill, I donned the same shoes but instead of my usual route to the basement, I opened the front door, breathed the fresh air and with some trepidation, I began to jog. Being my first run, I chose a looping one-kilometer route back to my house. At about 200 meters, I remembered. Running outside is not the same as running on a treadmill. You have to propel yourself! With old familiar palpitations, I persevered. Passing my house for the first time, I felt strong. Dare I say it – a little cocksure. The second time around was great. I could feel my legs burning a little but what runner doesn’t? Boldly I past my house and began my third kilometer. At some time during that loop, my confidence dwindled and at some point I felt sick to my stomach. As I neared my house again, another familiar, albeit hibernated feeling emerged. This is the feeling that all runners experience. Without it, we wouldn’t run more than a couple of kilometers. Without it there would be no marathons. This feeling of determination, unconnected to the exhaustion of the body, is what made me run past my house and head on for a fourth kilometer. Non-runners may ask, and rightly so – Why? The truthful answer. I don’t know.

My hairdresser washes and conditions my hair with products designed for horses and call me crazy but I think I just bought into the whole idea. My hair feels great and honestly have you seen the shine on those horses! It’s an all natural product called EQyss and according to them, they’ve been in salons for years. I have to get my head around the fact that I can’t help noticing the word “pet” every time I pick up the bottle. Maybe I’ll decant it…

My nine-year old daughter, Gabi, had to write a story for school. She chose to write about a near-drowning incident that she witnessed when she was four. This was a first. She proudly showed me her first draft. It was a terrible experience and I am in awe of her strength. Together, we’ve worked hard at overcoming the emotional ramifications of this event, so for her to write the story, knowing also that it will be shared with her class, is an achievement of gigantic proportions. Good for you, sweetheart!

The second a word is read by even one other person, it becomes final. Hence the phrase “in black and white.” Another way of saying cast in stone. To let their words “go” a writer must commit. With the infinite possibilities of word combinations, this can often prove quite challenging and immobilizing. It is no surprise that many authors experience long periods of writer’s block, a condition based in fear. The fear of judgement by self and others, the fear of disappointment and the fear of falling short. The fear itself creates a jumbled mind and becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. This poem was written during one of those self-doubting times.

What if….

What if every word inside my head
Have all already been said
What if those words were never true?
But only said to please you
What if the authentic self, the real me
Lies deep inside, in lock and key
What if, worse, these words fight free
And into abyss, I fall and this is me?
What if I wish I never know
Does this mean I’ll never grow
What if I carry on the same?
And never give inside a name
When I die will I be true
Or will I be what I meant to you?

I have not experienced anything equal to the glorious pain of childbirth. It was pain in its purist form. Moments in time when only the present existed. At that time I wanted it gone but looking back I think it was probably the only time in my life when I have felt angst-free. I believe there is brilliant reason, just out our grasp, for the existence of this pain, together with the reality of bringing a new person into the world. It almost seems necessary to have this distraction so that we can deal with the enormity of birth.

During my time at university, I knew a young man who had one war cry. He was not bringing a child into this terrible world of ours. I was already twenty-three, only two years away from the birth of my first child, and already I was mentally preparing myself. I rationalized his beliefs away as extreme and escapist and went on with my life. Now, at fifty one, I reflect on this man and can understand why someone could believe these things.

Nothing prepared me for the pain I would feel when I felt helpless to remove pain from my children. It began with something as small as their first fall and the look of surprise on their face when they realized that pain existed and that I could not protect them from it. And then time and time again, like unrelenting lava, I was faced with their pain, both physical and emotional. Often they would beseech me for answers, drowning in their own sense of helplessness. Finally, I asked the same question that my friend had posed all those years ago. “I brought them into the world, for this?” I often say that I have learned more from my children than I have taught. This has possibly been my greatest lesson. I fundamentally realize that everyone is responsible for their own pain and their own path. Pain is not a bad thing. Our most important and most valuable understandings are brought about through suffering. “The truth will set us free”. We all know this phrase but perhaps don’t understand the perfect correctness of it. All I’ve ever wanted for my children is for them to be happy and have often been devastated when my desire alone has not accomplished this. I realize now in later years that my focus has been misplaced. We can’t want them to be happy, we have to teach them how to be happy. We have to teach them to recognize their feelings. We have to teach them the real feeling behind an action, no matter how negative it may seem. And we have to teach them that they and they alone are responsible for their feelings. A child who breaks his toy needs to understand that he’s feeling angry, as well as feelings of loss and sadness.

Where do the days go? We’re in full force now trying to get the book out there. Not an easy task! I can’t understand it. Doesn’t everyone love the book as much as we do?!

Wedding stuff is going really well. The venue is booked for both the wedding and an engagement party. A good friend of mine has offered to do a “LLLL” – don’t worry, I had no idea what it was either, but we are all looking forward to “A lovely little ladies’ lunch”! My future daughter-in-law found a dress – absolutely beautiful. I saw “Bride Wars” in the theatre last week and despite being a light movie, I was moved. I must be in wedding mode! 

Writing begets writing. It most definitely does not end with the book. Emails to potential customers, press releases, requests to read in libraries or schools, writing articles and of course keeping up with this amazing blog, test my writing skills on an ongoing basis. Forgive me for my “off” days.

Books are heavy! Unpacking many of them yesterday, I was reminded of my early school years – a time before wheelie-bags and even before backpacks. It was the time of the school bag. Anyone remember those? I was really very proud of my mini suitcase. In fact, it is probably my strongest memory of grade one. Without straps or wheels, I carried my bag, leaning to one side to accommodate a case almost as big as I was. As the years passed, I learned the art of switching hands and if I was lucky, persuading my oldest sister to help me out. Today, with wheels, both on our bags and cars, our kids have lost an appreciation for the weight of books! 

A book should carry its weight with pride. Unless you have taken one from conception to birth, it would be difficult to fully appreciate the enormous work that goes into one little book. When I look at a book, I no longer see paper, pretty pictures and a cover. I see the birth of an idea, the months refining the idea, the search for the perfect illustrator, the endless editing, the uncertainty, the story-boarding, the preparation for marketing, the anxiety, the late hours, the burning eyes, the unpacking, the promoting and most of all, the believing.

Weigh on, little book!

Yes books are heavy, but wonderful. Having taken every step from conception to birth, with this book, I know I will never look at a book in the same way I did before.

Truth – a word bandied around by so many. If the discovery of truth exists I don’t think it is reachable by man. It is presumptuous of any of us to believe that we, with the limitations of our human minds, can state that we have the truth in hand. And yet so many people espousing religions, politics and philosophies do just that. Does this mean that we choose to believe in nothing? No. Is anything all or nothing? Believe what makes sense to you but not to the point where we put down, hate or murder those who disagree with us. Tolerance of others is the solution to all our problems. Realizing that our “truth” is relative and that we choose our beliefs is key. Choice about anything as it pertains to humanity makes us more thoughtful and less reactive.

The reaction to Barack Obama is a phenomenon and I believe that it is the aura of tolerance that flows from him, that speaks to the people. When he speaks I feel as though he is sharing his thoughts and not trying to replace the thoughts of his listeners. It is thrilling to witness a man with such enormous potential power display equal enormous humility.

I’m back! I apologize for the dry patch of blogs. The webmaster (aka Gaurav) is revamping the website! Please excuse the unfinished new categories but the wait will be worth it. The blog has also been updated to a much more user friendly one – for me! When I see what goes into the back end of a website and I only understand a smidgeon of it, I am in awe of a skill that I’m quite happy doesn’t belong to me!

It’s been a hectic time. I have most happy news. My oldest son and wonderful girlfriend are engaged! I’m going to be a mother-in-law! – A whole new world about to open up for me.

Pre-Christmas was crazy. We sold out of our first shipment which was great. A promotion on City TV didn’t hurt! The response to the book has been heart-warming. Adults and children really seem to understand the meaning behind the story. Our next shipment is arriving yesterday. I guess that means any day now. Can’t wait.

This is what I know about being a parent (No, you didn’t skip a paragraph. I decided to jump right in). I know that it’s sometimes difficult, easy, terrifying and wonderful – often all at the same time. I know that parents who appear over-confident are usually the opposite. I know that the hardest part is hitting a bump and feeling helpless. I know to allow children their pain. I know that the greatest moments are realizing that I rose to the challenge in the best way that I could. I know that making mistakes is inevitable and that sharing those mistakes with my kids is not a bad thing. I know that by showing my children that I am human is also teaching them that it’s ok for them to be human too. I know that I can’t ensure their complete safety but that I will die trying. I know that the best gift I can give them is to teach them to like who they are. I know that I can take them to the water, show them that the water is sweet and nourishing but that the drinking will always be up to them. I know that I always have to recognize my expectations as belonging to me. I know that I can’t walk their path even though they feel a part of me. I know that they are not. I know that my love for them flows from a bottomless well but that their love for me must be earned.

This month has flown by in a blur. It began with our first careful (and yet barely able to contain ourselves from ripping) unwrapping of the books. We scrutinized them, breath held, until we were satisfied that they were indeed perfect! With hardly any time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of our long labour, we were organizing, packing, filming, printing, cutting, constructing and shopping. Finally, the three day parenting show! Sharing Boom… Boom… Boom… for the first time was heartwarming to say the least. An unexpected bonus – we met some lovely people. Adrian and Connie, with their lovely Bkids series of books, stories for 3 to 6 year-olds about the importance of being yourself. The two of them exuded this belief themselves.

I knew some parents who intimidated me as a young mother. They seemed to get everything just right. Their children were always immaculate, clean and well-behaved. They slept when they were supposed to and ate what was good for them. These same parents found the time to teach their barely toddlers to recognize their abc’s and still find space in a day to work out! 

Here are some pictures from the book launch of my first children’s picture book, “Boom… Boom… Boom…: A Story to Raise Your Child’s Emotional Intelligence.”

The book launch took place on November 15, 2008 at Richmond Hill Public Library – Central Branch.

(left to right) Illustrator Troy Books, Me, Full of Ideas Publishing Co-Owner Gaurav Puri

(left to right) Illustrator Troy Books, Me, Full of Ideas Publishing Co-Owner Gaurav Puri

Where does it begin? Does a book begin with the very first thought? Does it begin when you write the first sentence (which will always change)? Does it begin when you have the book in hand? Or does it begin now, book in hand and transferring that ownership to other hands. I think the more accurate question to ask is, “Does it ever end?” My answer to that is that I hope not. I think my real dream is that the story will hopefully be a positive spark forever. I received an email the other day from a woman who had read the book to her three-and-a-half year old son. He asked her afterwards if “maybe when we’re scared sometimes, we could read that book.” I felt a glow of gladness when I read that. I hope the book is bound strongly enough that it can withstand the test of time and be kept and handed down to children and grandchildren. Please excuse the soppiness of this blog entry. I’m feeling a little soppy today.

Books arrived. Spent three days at the parenting show. It was great. Very rewarding. Called on some book stores. That was fun. Launch tomorrow. Oi vey! Sorry. No time for joining words (or whatever you call those things). Back soon.

My nine-year old has joined a “secret” club. When I asked her what it was about, she wouldn’t reveal because then it “wouldn’t be secret.” More importantly, she told me that you had to “believe” to be part of the club. I asked, “In what?” Changing the subject, she asked if I had belonged to any club as a kid. Racking my brain, I vaguely remembered belonging to a “no boys allowed” club, and shared this. “No, I mean did you ever belong to a club where you had to believe in something?” At this point, I became confused. “Like what?” I replied. “Like dragons, fairies anything!” Now she was a little frustrated with me. “Well, not a club but I did believe that my toys came to life after I fell asleep.” I felt a little relieved that I  remembered something. “So why did you stop?” she asked. I started to stumble. “I, I… guess I just grew up.”

Finally! At last! It’s here! Boom… Boom… Boom… is in hand and ready to be seen by all. Gaurav, Troy and I are all very proud. We will have pictures up on the website very soon. Poor Gaurav is working around the clock on e-book production, website update and the Full of Ideas website. He has a cold and I’m not surprised! Come Christmas and I think we will both slump happily into anything that will hold us!

“Because I said so!” The one phrase I vowed never to use, ever! Sad to say, it has popped out my mouth on more than one occasion. Speaking (I think) for all parents, I think its accurate to say that we can only tolerate a certain number of whys and buts before we reach our absolute human limit and “because I said so” flies out our mouths. In that moment, many other things that we have learnt about being a ‘good’ parent, fly out the window! “Because I said so” is our little (perhaps childish) way of hanging onto the control that we feel slipping from our grasp. Therein lies the universal parenting misnomer. We have no control to begin with! Parenting is learning to live with this with grace. Don’t get me wrong, having no control does not mean bad parenting. Quite the opposite, I believe. Parenting is recognizing the separateness of our children and reacting to them as individuals. Really seeing them is what it’s all about. Good parenting is knowing that the whys and buts are not defiant acts but attempts to be heard and seen. 

Why do so many find it so easy to judge others? Are there any amongst us who are really able to do this? When others do things, see things or feel things differently from the way we do, shouldn’t this be a cue to question our own beliefs and actions rather than theirs? In fact, is this not the only way we can possibly learn, change and grow? I want to leave this earth having seriously questioned myself along the way and I hope that at 100 I will know much more than I do now. Yes, I plan on living to at least that age! (I apologize to my kids, in advance!)

At 51, there is less wondering what life is going to bring because it already has. This is not to say that I no longer contemplate, because I do. But now I contemplate ways that I can make my life happier right now. Misery only relates to the past and future, never the now. I spend a lot of energy extending my “nows. ” I’ll be the first to accept that it’s not easy. If I had to say one thing, (not that anyone’s asking) that I have learnt by 51 that has changed my life, it would be this. I have learnt self-kindness. I have learnt to ask the question, “What would I do if I was my best friend?” It’s amazing what a little question like that can  do. Guilt, self-deprecation and self-criticism are not things I consciously choose today. I have spent far too much of my life ruminating on those sentiments. Not that it was wasted. Whatever was, has brought me to what is. And what is, is pretty good.

One reason to teach emotional intelligence in childhood is that children are just such receptive learners. They are not restricted by their physical world. They are happy to believe in that which cannot be seen. Believing and understanding that their thoughts have actual power is not a stretch for a child. I would like to share a delightful reading response that my 9 year old daughter wrote (with her permission of course) about the world renowned magician, Harry Houdini. I am not editing spelling etc for 2 reasons. Firstly, I love the fact that she is encouraged to write and not worry about spelling and grammer. Secondly, it’s adorable!

We’re at the proof stage of printing and I have to say the book looks amazing. It’s very exciting seeing it in full size and full color. There’s little more to do now but wait. Time to focus on the next writing project.

I have enough energy this morning for “Phew!”

I’m back! (again) It’s always wonderful to come home. The summer has been great, although hectic.

Well, we’re back from South Africa and I must be getting old. It’s taken me a full week to get over the jet lag (almost!). I have to say that the trip was one of the best family vacations I have ever had. Being with our South African family and celebrating my niece’s Bat Mitzvah was wonderful and then we went on safari. We all had high expectations for this and these were exceeded by a mile! It is beyond my word capability to describe the awesomeness of being able to witness the incredible nature of the bush. The integrity that the animals live by is enough to humble any human. Driving through the bush and focussing completely on spotting movement felt like a total experience of being in the now. It felt to me like no coincidence that I was reading at that time, “The power of now” by Eckhart Tolle. With the coming together of the two experiences, the book exploded in meaning for me. An incredible book.

Well, I’m off to sunny South Africa, albeit winter. My mathematically inclined youngest son, Dustin, has worked out that we will be in the air (not counting stop-overs) for approximately 46 hours. Plenty of time for writing! And watching a movie or two. We are traveling en masse, which should add to the fun and possibly, the hysteria. Back in 10 days, with lots of great wild-life pics!

When I was a young mother, I noticed that, from an early age, my children were drawn to stories that explored feelings of fear, sadness and anger. I remember clearly, my eldest son, Ilan (now 25) loved a particular book in which a bear accidentally spilled some paint all over the floor. The bear was mortified over what he had done and was scolded for his mistake. Ilan would cry every time we reached this page in the book and was so upset by it, that we had to remove the book from his room, before he could settle down and fall asleep. The very next day he would bring the same book to us and say, “Read, read!” I already had a Masters degree in Clinical Psychology and was familiar with many theories of child development but none of them gave me an adequate explanation.

How does high emotional intelligence make us successful and happy? I believe it comes down to one thing. Being able to connect with others. Making a connection with another person carries with it a myriad of hidden factors. The next time you feel a “connection”, think about everything that could contribute to this feeling. Usually words surface like “understanding” or phrases like “being on the same wave length”. Both of these are true. People who know how to empathize with another and communicate this empathy are in the pound seats when it comes to emotional intelligence.

Jumping and yet not jumping to another topic, I visited Pride this past weekend. Always analytical, I found myself thinking about connections. There were certainly many extreme displays of identity and I wondered if this were any different to how people are at peace rallies or anti-abortion stake-outs. In our western world, we talk the talk, but we really do not accept differences in others. When people are not accepted for who they are and are not given a voice, do they have any choice but to scream, “we’re here and you’d better take notice”. I felt that many of the more flamboyant dressers had an air of defiance to them. Behind defiance there is always pain. And we are to blame.

I believe that all people, without exception want love and acceptance. I think, for the most part, the ability to do this needs to be fostered in childhood. Let’s teach our children to have high emotional intelligence.

I was horrified with my first experience of the Wii-fit. Let me say at the outset that whoever designed this system does not have children or if they do, they don’t understand them at all. The rising incidence of eating disorders in our society should surely make a company as large as Nintendo stop and think, “Is this the best we can do?” Did anyone stop to think how the categories of ‘normal’, ‘overweight’ and ‘obese’ would impact the emotions of our children. My daughter who is perfectly beautiful, did not receive the ‘normal’ categorization and was reduced to tears. I shudder at the thought of the damage that this may have caused. It’s bad enough that we surround our children with public images of unrealistic, airbrushed ‘beauty.’ At least if we are designing something primarily targeted at children, do it responsibly.

I love the character (Gabi) that our illustrator has created for Boom… Boom… Boom… She has a face, that even in repose is full of emotion. Troy is a wonderful artist. The project is forging ahead. I’m waiting for the tedious part to start and so far it hasn’t! Is publishing a book supposed to be this much fun?

I have trouble with the idea of perfection. I’ve found that most of the time it is used to describe an ideal of something. The perfect body; the perfect child; the perfect parent. We all know that these definitions set us up for disappointment. The reason for this is that they don’t exist. I think if we focussed our attention on the process of being all these things we’d all be a lot happier. I like the word ”perfect” if it describes our process of becoming something; moving in a positive direction. Isn’t that the most perfect state to be in and the most that we can ask of ourselves? Opening our minds, focussing on our goals and working on personal development are perfect states to be in. Perfect things or ideas shouldn’t exist because it implies that we’re reached somewhere and shouldn’t we always be learning and growing? I’m committing to use the word “perfect” to say that I’m in a perfect place and that might be anywhere on the learning curve!

I chilled with Eric last night. (Clapton, that is) The experience showed me yet again that life is about connections. Around me were my husband, my son, my son’s girlfriend, my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece and many of my son’s friends. Sharing this evening with these people changed perspective completely. Sitting on the grass alternating with standing for hours felt like feeling the spirit. The temperature of 5 degrees C was an opportunity to cuddle up with loved ones. The gusty wind allowed us to watch seagulls struggling to fly and appearing as if they were hovering. Walking out of the concert with the throngs was a great time for conversation. Without my connections to these people I think I would have described the night as freezing and uncomfortable. The crowds may have annoyed and frustrated me and I probably would not have looked up at the seagulls.

My husband and children tell me that I spend way too much time in front of my computer. This is not true!

We need guidelines for our behavior, not to make us more human but because we are human.

Reality is not all that it’s cracked up to be! Where are those magic fairies when you need them? There I was, happily writing my stories and filing them away in my computer and in my filing cabinet, when someone (who shall remain nameless) said, “Why don’t you self-publish?” “Why not?” I thought, “How hard can it be?” Who knew that inside every silver cloud there lives a man on a mission! (there’s a saying in there somewhere) Just as well I’m quite fond of that man.

Gaurav has gone away for a week and I feel as though I can take a few breaths. He’s a taskmaster! (not that I don’t appreciate it). I’m taking the little spare time that I have to do what I love doing. Write. I’ve had an amazing idea for a book (not a children’s story this time) and have already started along this new road. As a writer, the hardest thing is to feel finished. There always seems to be more to say or to say it in a different way. Life is great!

I love this time of the year. I’ve started running outdoors again. I don’t run with music which baffles some runners but for me the beauty of outdoor running is in the outdoor sounds. Birds, birds, birds.

I’m posting my first article. Click on articles and follow instructions. Hope you enjoy it! We have chosen a wonderful illustrator and are well underway with the process. It’s terribly exciting and vicariously creative!

I still can’t believe that we managed to choose only six illustrators to interview. The excitement is building!

Turns out that many were not suitable. Wonderful, but too cartoony for our needs. Still left many to sift through. It’s been a journey of self discovery. It’s often easier to know what I don’t want than what I do! The search continues.

Mind-boggling. We posted an ad for an illustrator on craigslist.org.  This was another brilliant Gaurav idea. We received 65 portfolios in less than 48 hours. There are so many amazing artists in this city. How are we ever going to choose? With this one, I’m trusting in the universe!

When my kids were little I relished the times when they listened. Keeping ahead with the washing, feeding and schlepping was about all I had time for. Overall, however, listening was less common than the opposite and I often felt as though I was stretched to my limit. With three grown children, I now know two things. 1) I was never close to my limit. 2) I love it now when my children disagree with me. I feel that I must have done something right!

I took my eight-year old to see the movie “Horton Hears A Who!” with Jim Carrey. I felt like a child again and I think I was even more mesmerized than she was! Dr. Seuss was a genius. It was a story to be enjoyed on many levels. I really recommend it. I came out and found myself looking at dust particles and thinking, “Hmmm…. I wonder….”

When undertaking something like self-publishing, everything feels like it’s the most important thing. From finalizing the manuscript to looking for an illustrator, it definitely feels somewhat overwhelming. But I think I love it!

Hi, welcome to my first blog posting. I feel like this is a start of a great adventure. Together with my business manager, Gaurav, I am well on the way towards the creation of my first children’s book. The aim of my stories is to teach emotional intelligence to adults and children. Hopefully, my books and my articles can help achieve this and leave my readers feeling richer for having read them. I am very excited at the prospect of blogging about this and many other topics. I welcome any feedback, questions etc. from those reading this. Thanks for coming!