Free Birds
I am a list girl. When I need to get a handle on feeling overwhelmed, I put everything down on paper. Crossing off items is my love language.
I also use lists as a joy catcher. As I get tired and depleted, my negative thoughts get more airtime. I can shift my mindset with a simple gratitude list.
The weeks after launching our youngest son off to college, the messages that swirl around me are of sadness of the empty nest, not the joy of being free birds. I miss our sons on a daily basis, but at the same time, it is a wonderful new chapter of our lives. Let me list them for you.
Our schedules are finally our own. I can get a pedicure on my way home from work without having to rush into our kichen to cook dinner.
Thanks to our new airfryer, dinner is a breeze. Here is a receipe we have enjoyed, but please send me yours.
More quality time with old friends. Locally we have seen friends for a beers and chilli, and our trips have had bonus visits squeezed into our route.
We get to bed early and not woken for late night rides or stumbling arrivals. Granted, I turn off notifications and “find my kid” when they are away at college and not everyone parents in that fashion. My anxiety cannot handle watching the late night Ubers on a Tuesday.
We are renovating a home in Vermont and it brings me back to being a new couple making home improvements together. This might be the best anti-aging serum I have tried.
When we see our boys, we are fully present and soak up the time together. There is a balance of giving them space and connecting deeply when we are together that is a work in progress.
The best part? Parent’s weekends and building excitement for the full house over Thanksgiving!
Not the Drop Off
I have felt like the sea creatures in Nemo all summer, dreading the drop-off. Of course I was excited for our youngest to go off on his adventure, but it is a big production. A week before the move-in weekend, I visted my baby brother with my sister and mother. Our niece Jane greeted us with “the imposter” in tow. We had been given the advice as new parents to duolicate Mason’s favorite blanket, just in case he lost the original. His brother named the blankie “the imposter,” and Mason never grew an attachment to it. Blankie was left poolside, on the car roof, and had two near-death experiences from a candle, but he remained Mason’s steady companion. The Imposter sat in the wings, the understudy who never got his big break,
We passed along many items to my sister’s girls, who have passed them along to my brother’s babies. To see little Jane cluthing the Imposter brought tears to my eyes and a burst of joy to my heart. Finally the Imposter found his friend.
While I have sent Tyler off to college three years ago, this process was not the same. As I love to do, I created a list to pass along.
Be prepared for the waves. One minute I was fighting back tears over the memories of Mason’s sticky hand clutching his blankie, the next I was yelling over the dorm application that was not completed.
Your spouse may not grieve the same way. While I was in tears when Tyler couldn’t join us for the last supper, Todd was trying to fit a desk lamp into his carryon, not satified with the one I had ordered from Target.
We live in a world of instant delivery. Do not sweat the lists. We forgot to order Mason a pillow which is an important piece of his dorm bed. That was a easy problem to solve.
Friends are very important, especially ones who have been through the process before. Not only do they remind you of the important items, they catch you when you are overwhelmed with the logistics,
As Pookie taught us, keep a tissue in your pocket, Shutterfly and Facebook will trigger tears with their memory messages.
You will send care packages as they forget items the first few weeks. I keep packing tape and scisssors in my car.
A good blanket is great addition for both the dorm room and your nest. Our sons have weighed blankets on their beds, and I like ti snuggle under one knit by Gramma Phyllis. I learned to power nap in college and I am encouraging Mason to try it out as he learns to balance a new schedule. Even if you grab a beach towel, channeling your inner Linus can be soothing.
Finally, focus on the bursts. My dishwasher, washing machine, and grocery bags are all resting after making it through the drop off. #joyburst
Savoring Security
A little blue square trimmed in navy satin, Mason was attached to his Blankie from birth. An experienced Mom-friend suggested we buy a duplicate blanket immediately to avoid any trauma if one gets lost. Unfortunately, as a young preschooler, his brother Tyler had the wit to name him “the Imposter,” sealing his fate as the understudy.
Blankie joined us on every family vacation and road trip and traveled throughout the house as Mason’s trusty sidekick. He was dedicated to ensuring Mason’s happiness, surviving a few burns (one candle, one lightbulb) and many near losses as he was invariably left on park benches, beaches, poolside, and often on the roof of our car. Blankie persevered.
Mason’s separation anxiety kicked in with early daycare drop-offs and often when I went out for a run. Todd would ease my anxiety by encouraging me to put my mental health first by making time to exercise. “He only cries for a second and is easily distracted once you leave the driveway,” he would convince me. I have since seen evidence to the contrary in old videos of poor Mason clutching Blankie as he sobbed at the front door.
Eventually, the day came when Mason suggested moving Blankie to the memorabilia chest in our attic. I wasn’t ready and had flashbacks of the sad toys in the movie Toy Story. I found a stuffed animal I had tried to sew together years earlier and opened his stitching to slide in Blankie. “Blake,” the terry cloth orange monster would keep Blankie safe, Mason explained to me.
As I walked around Mason’s soon-to-be college campus last month, I was excited about the adventure he will soon be embarking on. I am nostalgic as so much of being in the South reminds me of my own college experience thirty years ago. I also am heartbroken for that little boy who would clutch me in one sticky hand and Blankie in the other.
I had a Blankie when I was little, but I am more attached to a blanket that lives on our couch. As soon as Todd and I announced our engagement, my Gramma Phyllis began knitting. She created a scrumptious cream blanket for our wedding present. As soon as I slip under it today, I am instantly comforted by the soft knit. My brother and sister each have their own versions, and we send each other selfies to compare snuggling. The weather has been damp recently, and I have found this blanket and a book can cheer up any dreary afternoon.
When I was sick this winter, my friend Christine visited with the softest blanket for me. Not only did that baby blue nurse me back to health, but she was compact enough to make the trip to the Azores last April. The blanket relaxed me into a deep sleep on the overnight flight.
My mother has been passing along items from the Woodstock, Connecticut, home she grew up in for us to use in our home in Woodstock, Vermont. Each piece has a story from her past to be included in our future. The quilt for the end of our bed, created by my great-grandmother Edith, is compiled of pieces from my mother’s dresses. I close my eyes and imagine the pinks and purples that she wore, but they could just as easily be a collection of sewing scraps. If only the blankets could talk.
Warmth, comfort, nostalgia, and security blankets provide much more than a decorative addition to our beds. As a child of the seventies, the Peanut’s character Linus was secure enough to drag his blanket on any adventure. In our home, we keep a weighted blanket in the family room, ready to inspire a nap at a moment’s notice. I anticipate relying on a variety of blankets for comfort in my empty nest this fall.
Reframing in a New Light
Our spring kicks off with celebrations of mothers, graduates, fathers, brides and grooms. They bring on a flurry of excitement, but crammed together the season can be overwhelming. As soon as people realize that summer is near, work deadlines pick up speed and calendars tighten up. Our plans to entertain after a busy week seem daunting, so instead of planning a menu, heading to the grocery store, and cleaning the house, we cancel our plans. Our friends appreciate our honesty and we offer them a rain check.
Instead of hosting a dinner, we pack a quick overnight bag and drive up to Vermont, stopping for beers in the outdoor garden of Harpoon Brewery in Windsor. The trees change to a vibrant green, the clouds take on an artistic pattern, the hairs on Simba’s back glisten in the afternoon sunlight, and I slip on my sunglasses. A cold draft beer tastes a little sweeter when it is sipped in the outdoors. The work call I took felt lighter, the conversation flowed with ideas in unison with my colleague. We explore the nearby outdoor adventure shop, dreaming of floating down the river in the summer. After an outdoor lunch, we drive further and park at Mount Peg to get a little exercise. The moss blankets the forest floor and teeny buds wave as we walk by. We are happy to watch the water rushing, while we stand still.
Sipping coffee before the rest of your house wakes, freshly laundered sheets, a funny text from an old friend. It doesn’t take much to brighten a mood for a moment. But how often do we stop and notice these small moments of joy? Could highlighting what has brought us joy, help to build a happier outlook? Many of us have created other humans, so this should not be too much of a challenge.
During the lockdown of the Pandemic, I challenged friends and family to pay attention to the teeny moments of their day that brought them joy. “If a video made you laugh yesterday, today, spend a few minutes looking for other clips. If you enjoyed reading a book, maybe it’s time to order a few more titles from your library? If you liked a song that came on your car radio, play that soundtrack at your desk,” I explained.
I encouraged them to share on their social media accounts with the #joyburst attached. Once one friend posted about the joy of buying flowers at the grocery store, many copied and shared. “We can help each other. I’m challenging you to not only notice and share your happy moments but play them on repeat so you can build a happier day,” I encouraged. “Focus on yourself, not what you are doing to bring joy to others.” My goal was to uncover what made us smile each day. I wondered how we could cultivate more happiness.
Our bursts of joy became contagious. If my day was gloomy, I found myself trying to find a reason to smile and share. The quest for joy bursts distracted me from my grumpy mood. We shared photos of recipes, podcasts, quotes and songs. The more focus we shined on our joy, the brighter these moments became.
When our boys were small, we read the book “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,” and laughed over how miserable he was. The more Alexander stomped around complaining, the worse his day seemed to get. Gloom breeds doom.
By changing our mindsets to search for good moments, we can find more reasons to smile. We don’t need grand celebrations or adventures; we just need little everyday sparks to feel more joy. A text from a friend, watching a movie with your child, a warm bath at the end of the day. Simple moments bring joy and when added up, brighten our day. But it is up to us to search for these moments and savor them.
If you have been struggling to find joy lately, do not give up hope. Your search might take longer or be more difficult, but I bet you can find a little something to make you smile. That is why sharing your joy is so important-- you never know who might need inspiration at that moment.
Joy can be found in fun plans and epic adventures, but there is also a burst of joy when plans are canceled and there is room to spontaneously enjoy the afternoon. There is practical magic in slipping on sunglasses; they help frame the afternoon in a new light.
I love Candy.
In Massachusetts, we are deep in winter, but I am dreaming of sunny days. I often reflect on past journals and found this entry I wrote while visiting Nantucket last June.
Lotti was her entertaining assistant. She held a trunk of Sparkling Rose, an abundant charcuterie board, and buckets of fresh flowers. Once she made it across the sand dunes, Lotti greeted her guests with a photo worthy beach picnic. A true cover girl, she even sparkled inside Nantucket's Cru cookbook, winking at me while I cooked.
Scarlett was waiting for her journey up the east coast. Lovingly cared for in Florida, she had not experienced the joys of the faraway island. My friend Elizabeth spent most of the early Pandemic urging her owner to part with her, eventually bringing her to the little grey lady. Scarlett arrived in time for summer, and as soon as Elizabeth removed her top, she soared. It wasn't long before Scarlett had sand and salty vinegar crisps on her floors, settling her into Nantucket living. Sunset cocktails were more her style, but like her little sister, she quickly became an island party girl.
My car was a gift from Todd last fall. Sparkly navy blue with a chocolate nugget interior, she was the most stylish car I had ever seen. Quick and compact, she is a treat to drive and park. I named her Candy, and she has lived up to her name. As soon as I get behind her wheel, my mood lightens and I enjoy the ride. For the first time in my driving life I can parallel park, making my endless errands a breeze. I keep a few playlists cued up and her sound system allows me to sing loudly without the cars along side in traffic hearing a peep.
Thank you Elizabeth for teaching me the simple joy of naming my car. I spend so much time with her, calling her by name makes my driving experience a little more joyful.
Happy Spring,
Sami
Manifest that s**t
The index card sits on our bathroom backsplash, a few water stains and runny ink, but we can still make out the message that I wrote: “we have an abundance of wealth and love.”
Somebody, probably Gabby Bernstein on Instagram, suggested that if you state what you want, the universe will deliver. This time of year, we see and hear a lot about manifesting your dreams into reality. We are very fortunate and appreciate what we do have, but there are times when Todd and I want less financial stress in our lives. I am not thinking about sleeping with Robert Redford so I can roll with Todd on a bed of cash, but paying college tuition without an anxiety attack would be nice. A girl can dream.
Bewitched, Jeannie, Wonder Woman and Dorothy all taught me as a young girl that we have the power inside to make things happen. With a twinkle of her head, a twitch of her nose, a click of her shoes, or a clink of her cuffs and she would receive all of the magic. This is why I create a Vision Board each January: to BELIEVE.
A Vision Board serves as a reminder of what I want to go after in the year ahead. I sprinkle in some dreams for the future because some adventures take more than a year to plan. Having a road map that I see on display keeps my goals visually front and center. Creating a Vision Board takes time, but the creative endeavor is rewarding.
I grab my energel pen, composition notebook, and a warm cup of coffee. If I had my dream year, what would be included? I jot down a few ideas and since it is MY notebook, the wilder the better.
I flip through a travel magazine and tear out any adventures that look intriguing. Portugal, Paris, and I am reminded that I want to visit my brother in Pennsylvania.
My new job is going well, but what are my lofty goals for my writing? I want to share my stories with a wider audience. I cut out words from magazines to inspire me : glow, grow, sparkle, and shine.
This will be a big year for launching our youngest off to college. We will have a time to thrive as a couple. What fun can we plan? I scroll Pinterest, I print a few pictures, I find a pretty sticker to attach.
Clipping, cutting and crafting the board is an act of joy itself. A rush of creative accomplishment hits as I display the finished piece next to my desk, in clear view. A physical reminder of the places we’ll go and the joy we will experience.
Cheers a creative 2023,
Sami
The Art of the Ask
In college at Elon University, I worked the phone-a-thon for the Advancement Office. I was given a background sheet and taught to weave the alumni’s involvement at the school into my conversation.
“Hi, I am a sophomore and a Tri-Sig at Elon. Do you keep in touch with any sorority sisters from your class?”
Instantly I reminded them of the connections they made while on campus. Some would appreciate a conversation and others would cut to the chase, knowing the purpose of my call. But I had to be prepared to entertain both options. It was a valuable lesson on taking the time to get to know people and make personal connections. Probably one of the most valuable lessons I learned at Elon was over cold pizza and a bank of rotary phones.
“I hate asking for money, I could never do your job.” When I tell friends what I do for a living I can see the fear in their eyes. Volunteers will offer their time with the guideline that they will not ask their friends for money. What they do not realize is that it is not a transactional experience. The art of fundraising involves forging a relationship, learning what inspires the person and working together to find what can ignite their giver’s glow. It should be meaningful for both the giver and the receiver.
When we are small, many of us write a wish list for our birthdays or Christmas. We may not receive everything on our list, but we curate our desires and share them with those in the power to deliver. When I have the opportunity to meet with people in a position to support the institution I am working for, I am merely communicating the wish list. Not everyone can be Santa, equally important are the roles of Mrs. Claus and the elves. It does not have to be an uncomfortable conversation, it can be an opportunity to figure out how the person can give their time, talent or treasure.
Having the opportunity to thank a person for a gift is another joyful activity. Sharing a student’s joy over the scholarship they received, or a trip they were able to take thanks to a donation is magical. Sharing excitement over a new book collection that enhances lessons, or the hiring of an assistant to the classroom to spread a teacher’s attention is inspiring. I find it invigorating when people want to renovate, build and expand to enable an organization to spread her wings.
I do not ask people for money, I help them find a way to connect and give back in the best way that they can manage. In highlighting the joy of their gift and by expressing gratitude, I ensure that they bask in their own giver’s glow. Try this technique next time you have an ask and I guarantee you will not only get what you want, but you will both walk away sparkling.
The Summer Bucket List '22
I don’t like August. August is a bully taunting me with busy fall schedules, Halloween advertisements and teary college farewells. Everyone asks the same question: How was your summer? What happened to summer being over AFTER Labor Day?
Stuck in bed with Covid on the last week of summer, I had to cheer myself up. I wrote out a list of the fun moments to remind myself of the joy I had before my week spiraled out of control. Sharing in case you want to try the same exercise.
My Summer 2022 Bucket List:
Job Change: I left my stressful job at the Dana Hall School n June. Starting a new job in the summer when there are only a few people in the office allowed me to ease into my new environment. Shorter hours and kids enjoying summer camp made for a laid-back environment at the Tenacre Country Day School. With the school’s theme being “spread joy” for this year, I think I am in the right place.
Recharge & Reconnect: I took a two-week vacation from work and reconnected with dear friends. I took the boys on our annual adventure to the island of Chappy, off of Martha’s Vineyard with our friends who feel like family. Then I flew to Sandbridge, Virginia to my friend Casey’s sunny home. The laughs with my sorority sisters over how we met and became friends were reminders to be patient and understanding with our own college kids.
Happy Place: We rented our first home on Nantucket Island, taking a step back in time to when my mother owned a home on the magical island. We visited her home, but without the maiden hanging above the fireplace, her needlepoints framed on the walls, and the striped “napping couches,” the home felt sterile. It is time to let another family create their own memories inside Windswept.
Set Goals: Completed my book proposal for Toast: Stories About Joy a collection of short essays that range from happiness to heartbreak and everything in between, all connected to a greater message about finding bursts of joy. The manuscript is broken into small moments of connection, and I lead the essays with a toast that inspires the discovery of one’s own joybursts. I share great lessons learned on grief through my parent’s, Pake and Pookie’s cancers, to rescuing the owl Owlivia with our neighbor Dale and sharing her eventual death with our community. I am sending out my proposal to potential agents and look forward to hosting book signing parties at local bookshops!
Rest: We bought a new bed that has a remote-controlled head and footrest. This has been a game-changer while having COVID.
Cheers: Todd’s spin on the Paloma that includes 1800 Coconut Tequila and Fresca has brought us lots of joy. Thanks to @skinnytaste for her inspiration.
Thrive: Tyler worked hard on our garden this summer growing lots of herbs for us to enjoy. I hear many people who use the garden as a metaphor for life and we watched him learn lots of lessons. Constant weeding and rearranging as the landscape changed and grew., the benefits of a little water and sunlight, and the appreciation of watching the garden thrive.
We bought a Blackstone Griddle for Todd’s Father’s Day and Mason has taken it over to cook protein pancakes, bacon, egg sandwiches, and chicken fried rice. Family brunches replaced dinners in our house as both boys worked summer jobs at local restaurants. Added bonus- a clean kitchen. Thank you Tara for this recommendation!
Connecting with Todd in nature rejuvenates us. We paddle board in a lot of new spots around our home and cherished the little bursts of alone time instead of waiting for a big trip to the sea.
Ending my summer with a list of highs will help me to face the next season positively. If you are overwhelmed with back-to-school, I recommend this exercise to force your own joy.
Happy September!
Lessons from Goldilocks
What I remember about the story is that Goldi tested out a few chairs and beds until she found a spot to feel safe enough to rest. Risky of her to break into home that was not hers, and a little crazy to explore its contents. She made a mistake and broke a chair, but swiftly moved on until she reached her goal. In the story of Goldilocks and The Three Bears, she did not find happiness immediately. Goldie had to try out a few chairs and beds before finding a spot that felt right. And then she laid down to rest.
Submitting your resume, sending a college application, writing an email to someone new can feel super scary. My father believed in going for one interview or networking meeting each year to remind you of your worth. It’s a way to compare your current position with another opportunity. Sometimes, the process will encourage the next step, while other times it can make you grateful for the role you currently have.
I was reading and writing about other people’s changes; what inspired and motivated them to take a risk. I followed my late father’s advice and polished up my resume. When I was invited to go into a round of interviews, it was intimidating, but I was curious about the little schoolhouse next door to Dana Hall. I arrived to meet the team and was greeted outside by the Head of School’s assistant. “Welcome, wow you are so beautiful in person! I am so happy you are here.” Robin opened the door and I was instantly calmed. She hugged me and I glowed from within. What a way to go into a job interview. I spent five hours meeting with many people but as soon as I saw the school’s motto painted on the wall, I knew I had to work there.
“Work hard, find joy, be kind.”
Two weeks into my new job at Tenacre Country Day School and they have asked me to push forward the theme of the year: Joy. I have had jobs that were too soft, or too hard, but this feels just right.
Fallen Father's Club
In my experience, when someone dies, not only are they remembered as a younger version, but their best qualities shine brightest. Rarely do you hear a eulogy that lists the dearly departed’s worst characteristics or stories of their mistakes and regrets.
My Dad was the master networker connecting every person he met with someone else. Watching him in action was incredible. He never seized the opportunity to meet someone when presented with the chance. He didn’t always want to go to an event, but he got himself dressed and always made an appearance knowing he would either make a new connection or leave with a story to tell.
My father-in-law Bob knew the importance of setting the scene and repeatedly provided the location for a perfect gathering of family and friends. He slid into the role of father to me when I lost my own twenty years ago. With Bobby G at the wheel, I felt safe.
My heart is full today knowing that these two are entertaining a dynamic group up in heaven. Bobby has cleaned the clouds and poured the pearly cocktails, while Jack has made sure each guest will not miss the party. They each left us pieces of them, and as they look down on us all, I can hear my Dad giving his famous “Great Group” toast.
Happy Father’s Day to both the old and new fathers. And to the members of the Fallen Father Club, as you remember who you are missing today, don’t forget to reflect on the pieces they left behind.
Crafting Joy
In 2007, Craig Wilson shifted gears by leaving his family’s woodworking business to restore cars with his best friend. When Craig Wilson’s band member and best friend passed away in 2020, he couldn’t let off steam playing music or tinkering. Craig channeled his grief back in his barn woodshop. The more wooden pieces he created, the better he would feel. Giving away charcuterie boards, shot trays and heart bowls encouraged gatherings and spread joy.
The unimaginable happened in March when Craig’s barn burnt to the ground while Craig was driving his son to the airport. Not only did my cousin and her husband lose their car, snowplow, lawnmower, and endless tools, but they also lost Craig’s maker space.
As he was making his way through insurance paperwork, Craig’s son came to him to discuss a college friend who was struggling. Craig was working out of their dining room and had spent the morning crafting heart-shaped bowls. The tip of the heart fell off the blade and gave Craig an idea. He polished a “worry stone” for the boy to carry in his pocket and touch as he needed. The boys slid the stones into their pockets and my cousin Niki called me to share the joyburst that Craig felt. I enjoyed the joyburst as well, and ordered myself a few heart bowls filled with stones to share. Thank you, Wilsons for sharing your joy.
https://www.wilsonwoodworks.net/s/shop
Bye, Bye, Mr. American Pie
Many of us who have been married for a long time become bitter over gift-giving at the holidays. I am not sure why, but when I got married, I took over the role of Santa, purchasing all of the gifts that our family gave to others. I am sure that it was exciting at first, but over a period of years, it has become a burden (sorry Greenfields). Last year, in a frustrated moment, I suggested that Todd help me with a gift for his own parents. My in-laws are the most gracious people I know, and they refuse most gifts, thinking they are unnecessary or extravagant. They just want the gift of our presence, which makes the selection of an actual present challenging.
Todd reviewed what we have given them in the past and came up with the idea to sign them up for a meal delivery service. His mom loves to cook, and his Dad loves to eat, so this sounded like a great plan. To be honest, I was just happy to not have to shop for another gift. We sent them the gift of Blue Apron, and Todd spent hours Facetiming his father to teach him the ins and outs of how to select meals. Todd also added boxes of wine to the order, which were selected to pair with the meals and scheduled for weekly deliveries.
Twice a week I would walk into Todd’s home office where his Dad would be on his screen gushing over their latest dish. His mom sent photos of their table to include white table cloth, lit candles, a bottle of wine and proudly presenting their latest culinary accomplishment on two plates. My father-in-law would greet the delivery person in the driveway and quickly unpacked the crate like a young boy on Christmas morning.
“It looked so good, I had to start the salmon before Mary got home!” he texted. “Wow, I have never eaten bok choy, but it pairs so nicely with the Rose they sent.”
In thirty years of marriage, I had only witnessed my father-in-law grilling and drinking bourbon, so this came as a pleasant surprise. For many months this gift gave Todd a daily connection with his parents and he saw a side of his Dad he had never seen before. On Valentine’s Day they texted over the joy they shared cooking scallops and enjoying the new wine together for a dinner they created. Their stomachs, and our hearts, were full. We could not have imagined that just two weeks after Valentines day my father-in-law’s heart would fail and take him from us.
We spent many days sharing stories and gathering photos of our time with him, and many of those involved his newfound cooking skills. At his funeral, Todd stood before the church filled with our family and friends who came to show their love. He delivered the most heartfelt eulogy filled with laughter and tears from the memories that were created by his father. Todd’s mom sat proudly in the front pew of the church, holding my hand and gushing with pride as Todd exited the alter. “Thanks for giving Dad that gift” she whispered when a teary Todd returned to our pew.
I think Todd nailed the gift-giving this year.
Is there no place like home?
In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy spent most of the film trying to find her way back home. In year three of the Pandemic, many of us are stuck at home with our version of Toto. Leaving us to wonder how we can click our heels together and create a place that feels better than anyplace else.
We can take our cues from Dorothy and close our eyes and imagine what makes our own home feel good. Do you have fresh flowers? Cozy throws and a fire roaring or a sparkly pool inviting you in for a dip? A bar cart ready to help mix a cocktail? A fun playlist humming in the background? Some years there was playdough stuck to our carpets, or a highchair covered in food, or four of us maxing the Wi-Fi during the lockdown, but the homes we have shared as a family have always told our story. Our house contains a collection of things we love, photos and items from places we’ve traveled, and enables us to share our joys with our guests.
No need for a formal living room, we decorated the space in our house for music and working. Moving my desk by the window enabled me to enjoy the natural light while working and keep an eye on our dog, Simba. I keep my favorite children’s books for inspiration, a cozy chair to change up my writing space, and plenty of journals and pens. Our sons were taking piano lessons on an electronic keyboard but they were struggling to practice and stay motivated. My uncle rescued our piano from a local church and it is not in the best shape, but it does play music. By strategically placing the piano in the boy’s path, they often stop to play a few tunes as they walk by. A sign from local shop Laurel Grove displays the song from Mason’s first performance at SunnyHill Preschool. “I love you in the morning, and in the afternoon, I love you in the evening and underneath the moon.” It inspires me to share the prized video of Mason singing that sweet song.
We added a gas stove to our porch which gave us another place to gather together for meals or conversation. When it snows and we sit out there with the fire going, and it is like being inside a snow globe. As the sign says, it truly is our “Happy Place.” Some of the signs friends have gifted us send a subtle message, such as the one at the door that says “thanks for coming, please leave by 9pm.”
As a mom of teenagers, I spend a lot of time in the laundry room. Having it situated off the kitchen makes it easier to manage. We added a galley of photographs taken by our boys on their phones so they are inspired to keep up with photography.
Our mantle has a glass bottle of my grandfather’s, our bookcase has a wooden angel that my Grandmother made, we curl up under the blanket she knit, and my desk features a tray, a candy dish and a painted box the she gave us at Christmas. My in-progress needlepoint is in my grandmother’s tote bag, and I have my mother’s needlepoint collection framed as a reminder to get to the finish line. The story of my grandmother sharing her gift of homemade presents inspired my very first blog post.
Each morning, I see the golf ball that Todd gave me and the framed lyrics of the song he played when he proposed twenty-six years ago. Photographs are framed throughout the walls of our house to highlight the adventures we have shared. Savoring costly vacations decreases the sting of the expense.
When asked what brings us joy in our home, I do not list expensive furnishings or the actual house, but the little items that tell our story. Winter is a great month to take stock of your home and plan Spring projects before you head to the beach. Every room is an opportunity to highlight the memories you have created and display them for your guests. If your home doesn’t tell your story, now is a great time to write it.
The Power Nap
“Sleep when the baby sleeps,” was the first instruction we received as new parents. Those directions haunted us as we felt our chores increase and the time to complete them evaporate. A few months into having our first son, I realized that without naps, I could not make it through the evening to care for our child. I would put him down in his crib and enjoy an afternoon nap myself.
In college, we stayed up too late and had to power through morning classes the next day. An afternoon nap was key to our survival. On the day of a party, we would power-nap in preparation of our late-night shenanigans.
When our boys were toddlers, we would watch cartoons with them and sneak in a power nap. The boys were so engrossed in the excitement over watching a show that they didn’t notice my eyes were closed. These little hidden snoozes allowed me to keep up with their energy.
Growing up, my parents had very active social lives, and they were big fans of the afternoon power nap. My Dad would pack multiple activities into his weekend, and a short nap while watching golf on TV was his signature move. My mother preferred the after-dinner-mouth-agape-nap, which allowed her to chat with any night owls passing through the kitchen. This came in handy the summer Tyler spent with her on Nantucket, since she would meet him in the kitchen to catch up about his restaurant night shift.
Today a nap is a luxury. A nap is my favorite part of a day at the beach, with the ocean, or nearby music lulling me to sleep. My circadian rhythm is set to wake up early, even on the weekends, and a nap is a great way to catch up on my depleted sleep.
I have learned a lot about myself and energy in the last year, and what brings me joy. The power nap makes that list, and I am going to care for myself this year as I have for our babies. I plan to read myself a story, cover myself with a weighted blanket, and enjoy more long-winter naps.
The Joy of Travel
Planning vacations is my love language. I love talking about where we should go, who we should go with, and booking it far in advance to have a buoy to keep myself happily floating. Not only does having a trip on my calendar deliver hits of joy before I go away, but there are many bursts that occur during and after an adventure. There was a point last year when airlines dropped prices, we got vaccinated and were hopeful about travel going “back to normal,” so we planned a Christmas trip with my extended family.
Unfortunately, there are many joy killers when people around you question your choice to travel. “Don’t you have college to pay for?” “Haven’t you taken a lot of trips this year?” Or my favorite: “must be nice to be able to spend money frivolously.” If you ask your wanderlust buddies, I am sure they can share a few zingers they have received. Many do not realize the additional benefits outside of the time to decompress, and in times like these, a trip could be the happiness boost you need. Here is my list of travel joybursts to inspire your own planning:
It helps fine tune your decision-making skills. With so many places recommended on the internet or from friends, you have to balance top interests with budget, time and physical ability to cram it all in.
You improve your research skills. While my husband Todd heads to Tripadvisor to check-out excursions and plan our play, I like to scan Pinterest for best dining and shopping. Now that our boys are older, then will find activities for us on the internet, making planning a collaborative effort.
We recap the trip in a travel journal. This helps us remember where we ate, played and stayed so we can recommend spots to friends. It also allows us to learn from our mistakes. “Bring extra pens and cash” I write after our trip to St. Lucia. I am impatient if I have to wait for a pen as I complete endless forms in the airport so Todd stashes a few in the outside of our suitcases for the next adventure.
Travel teaches you to communicate expectations. While in St. Lucia, I wanted to hike to Pigeon Island, so my sister Sarah and I squeezed in a great walk and talk on our last morning. My brother wanted us to have a sibling dinner after his babies went to sleep. He explained his wishes to my mom so she would babysit. I asked Mason to take me on a quick sail before we packed up and that activity keep my mind sailing the entire fourteen hours it took to travel home. No one should leave a place with regrets, and if you don’t speak up, your bucket list item might not happen. I don’t know anyone who vacations with mind readers.
Taking pictures slows me down and allows me to literally focus on the beauty in front of me. I love to frame photographs from vacations in our home to remind us of the adventure. Sharing the photos on social media encourages friends to comment and ask about the trip, causing the joy ripple effect.
You learn more about friends and family when you go away with them. Who likes breakfast, who enjoys exercising, who likes to nap, and who wants to be the “Julie McCoy” becomes evident. You also learn how to mediate between people as the activities may or may not line up with each other.
The more you travel, the more organized you become, especially if you have to juggle COVID testing and vaccine verifications. You will also learn when to call in help to keep the experience enjoyable. We learned the joys of hiring a travel agent to plan our trip for fourteen family members. Wendy Chambers of Victory Travel manage the wide range of ages, arrangements and excursions, and was always ahead of every travel change. Her true talents were evident when we had our own version of Home Alone and left our mother on Christmas morning at Logan airport. Wendy managed that crisis in a moment’s notice, at the crack of dawn on Christmas, laughing all the way.
My mother is an anxious traveler, and will only travel with a companion. Her worst nightmare came true, but by the time she arrived on the island, she was proud of herself for getting out of her comfort zone.
The text strings pre and post trip, the sharing of photos, the funny stories from the vacation are all bursts of joy. You get closer to your travel buddies and it may inspire the group to plan another trip! It also gives you something to talk about with friends and colleagues when you return, making new connections.
Finally, traveling makes you appreciate what you have. While I was unpacking, my youngest son Mason came into my room and hugged me. “Thanks for making our travel look easy. I have never realized how many details you have to juggle.” That one moment made me appreciate coming home with my core four.
The Recap
The Recap
Our family’s favorite activity is the recap. We love to gather the day after a holiday or event to discuss the highs and lows. Sometimes we retell funny stories from the event and other times we might complain about a rude relative or food we didn’t enjoy. We give more attention to the good moments, the stories get funnier, we remember the food tasting better, and the memories are a little shinier. It helps to recap with other people who can share the experiences through a different lens. An annoying interaction with some one, can be flipped to a comical experience. Photos from the event help reframe the memories and enable us to share the joy.
As I read about happiness, I have learned about the power of “savoring the moment.” Savoring is gratitude’s BFF, and the combo is scientifically proven to increase happiness. It is the simple act of stepping out of your experience to appreciate it, as it is happening around you. One of the easiest ways to enjoy the moment you are in is to take a photo. You not only literally have to stop and focus, but you have photos to look back on the following day, week or whenever you choose. Screens get a bad rap, the fact that we have the ability to text a photo from the palm of our hand is remarkable.
After I tuck my phone in for the night, I get into bed and recap the events of the day to find a few things that I appreciated. I force myself to write down three moments of gratitude from the day. Sometimes I read the previous entries in my journal to remind myself of good times if I am having a tough week, and those recaps become fuel to power me forward. I often need to look back at my camera roll to remind myself of a picture I took of my dog, a quote I shared, or a meal I enjoyed.
At the beginning of a new year, it is customary to look ahead and create goals and plans for the future. Before I take a step forward, I find it helpful to recap the previous year. Scrolling through my phone I am reminded not of the big splashy moments, but the little hits of joy throughout my week. An ice cream cone I enjoyed, a hike I took, a book I loved and sent to a friend. It is one of the reasons I like to share on social media. Those bursts scattered in my feed remind me of the good things I have experienced, and give me hope for the year ahead. Thank you to the inventors of technology who allow me to have my recaps in the palm of my hand.
Something Old, Something New
My brother and father would pull out my mother’s childhood train set and spend the afternoon trying to get it to chug around the Christmas tree. Some years, their hours on the floor would result in cheers once the fake smoke puffed out of the engine and lights shone as the train came around the bend. There were some failed attempts, which resulted in more time together in the workshop before my Dad packed away the train for the following Christmas. This year, I mailed my nephew, and father’s namesake, Jack Colbert IV, a train set for under his tree. Facetiming my brother while they set it up instantly made us both feel connected to our father who hasn’t been with us for twenty Christmases.
Growing up, my Gramma Phyllis would spend the night in our home on Christmas Eve. I eagerly helped her unpack presents and her pie basket as she explained the French-Canadian tradition of serving meat pie at Christmas. I didn't hear much of what she was saying over the delicious scent of spices that crawled out of the basket. The pie contained lamb, veggies, and a flaky crust; a Christmas present in itself. Each year she would bring this pie and we would welcome the gift of not having to cook dinner. This year I have found a recipe on Pinterest, I will buy a frozen crust, and I will attempt to make my family a traditional French-Canadian Tourtiere, in memory of Gramma Phyllis. Even if the meat pie isn’t a big hit with my family, I will inevitably text my mother and siblings, and we will feel connected to our grandmother.
Each year, my father wanted to throw a Christmas Eve Party, but it was very important that my mom and grandmother attend the midnight church service. Persistent in his mission to celebrate, he would convince me to invite my friends over, and we’d all play pool and drink eggnog. Close friends at the time, my now-husband Todd would lead the charge and gather the boys from Belmont. The night would end with our childhood friend Jason, aka “Crazy Legs Conti,” hiding a letter to Santa under my parent’s tree. The year he lived in L.A. his letter arrived via Fed Ex so as to not break the tradition. Gramma Phyllis and my mom would return from church teary-eyes and would join us for one cold beer in a glass, which they split. A second beer was set aside with a plate of cookies for Santa.
This year, Crazy Legs Conti will visit Sudbury and we will have our sons teach us new games since we do not have a pool table. Thanks to modern technology, my brother will be able to send us videos of my nephew enjoying his train. Our family will connect in Boston for church and dinner the following day, something we have never done before. Todd and I might split a beer, toasting to new twists on old traditions.
Doing the best I can.
“Doing the best I can,” is my mother’s favorite phrase. The response can be useful in many situations, but I have found it to be a helpful holiday-strategy.
When my Dad died, my Mom stopped hosting family gatherings and my sister and I took over the responsibility. There were many dark holidays when we had to adjust to my father’s absence, the years that my Mom was going through chemo, and the lowest point when she had open-heart surgery the week of Christmas. We were not patient and would get frustrated if she couldn’t attend a gathering. We gave her grief about her lack of effort, when in reality, she was lowering our expectations of her. When you become a widow at fifty-three, battle two ‘bouts of breast cancer and then chemo destroys your heart, you learn not to bite off more than you can chew. She took our criticisms in stride, simply replying: “I am doing the best I can.” We may not have understood it at the time, but not everyone has it in them to host holidays. My mom deserved to step aside and let us serve her.
Last week, we served Thanksgiving dinner to my in-laws. We have hosted in years past but as our guests have aged, we now find ourselves “serving” them. A hostess plans an event and entertains her guests while enjoying the party. Todd and I were pings bouncing against pongs, as we tried to find the mysteriously missing green bean casserole, manage the salad and apple crisps that were being created as guests arrived, pour wine, make Bloody Mary’s, and keep the oven and microwave working overtime. It was such a circus that we found ourselves laughing hysterically when Todd channeled Chevy Chase and overcooked the bird. We had to explain to one of our guests who was an exchange student from Venezuela that American family holidays are not all like the movie Christmas Vacation. I couldn’t contain my giggles as I was eating dry Thanksgiving turkey one minute and then found myself singing happy birthday to Todd’s Great Aunt as we gathered around the rainbow cake my mother-in-law baked. No traditional pies for this holiday- we did the best we could with what our guests brought.
I went into our first holiday after a Pandemic-hiatus knowing it wouldn’t be picture perfect. I thought I had delegated enough of the tasks to others, but after taking last year off, I had forgotten the amount of work it takes to host a holiday. When everything fell apart, I was happy to have a husband who laughed alongside me, and encouraged the rest of the family to join in. The dry turkey became the star of the show.
With supply chain issues, shipping delays, travel restrictions, new variants, and to-do lists that are overwhelming, it is a difficult time to stay sane. I plan to keep my expectations low and remind everyone around me, I am doing the best that I can. Thanks Mum.
Anxiety Baking
I struggled in math and science in school, I only read eighty percent of directions, and I improvise if I don’t have all of the ingredients. For these reasons, I surprise people when I bake. “Oh no, talk to me, what happened? “ my friend Kate uses my baking as an emotional barometer. When my Mom’s cancer came back in her mastectomy scar, Kate came to my house and found me covered in flour. Mixing sugar and eggs into a new form is my yoga practice. If I am wound up, the act of baking slows me down. Forced to focus my attention on measuring and reading a recipe, I am in the moment and my anxiety decreases. Last year, bread was baked across the world and people shared this COVID-pandemic coping mechanism. Baking is an underrated mindfulness activity.
When I pull the treat out of the oven, I have a sweet dessert to enjoy and share. Have you ever seen a grumpy person eating a gooey chocolate chip cookie warm from the over? If someone pops into my kitchen during the process, and I can pass them a spoonful of oatmeal chip batter, filling us both up. Cooking and baking are a way to creatively express myself and I love to share this gift with friends and family. Growing up our kitchen was filled with the flavors of warm baked treats. My mom wasn’t a gourmet cook, but she did bake up a storm, and we snuck into the kitchen to steal a treat off the cooling rack. She loved to whip up a batch of oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies, loaded with walnuts even when we begged her to leave the nuts out. Snickerdoodles, devil dogs, apple pie and granola decorated our kitchen counters. We were able to indulge in moderation since these goodies were an everyday occurrence. Many friends would visit and not be able to control themselves, gobbling up every cookie in sight. Baking was her way to spread joy.
Ironically, I married a cookie monster. Todd loves to bake but is meticulous about measuring and following the recipe EXACTLY down to the suggestions of the order of ingredients into the bowl. “C’mon, does it really matter if the sugar follows the flour or jumps in ahead of schedule?” I tease. Todd also memorizes the recipe so he can make cookies any home we visit. Mason also bakes and creates healthier versions of old favorites, while Tyler cooks savory dishes, but they each love to experiment in the kitchen. That is how they give back joy to me. Nothing tastes sweeter than something made in my kitchen, but not cooked by me. When they were smaller, I was not patient if we were playing games with the boys, but I could spend hours with them in our kitchen. Baking can be a great way to connect as a family.
In their preteen years, sugar started getting a bad rap. Todd had to cut-back on his nightly hot fudge sundaes, and I had to cut back on cookies. I started making granola as a healthy breakfast alternative. Each week I would bake a new batch and place it in a glass canister on our kitchen counter. I remember the exact yellow cookie sheet my mom would use when she would bake granola in our kitchen in Belmont when I was in middle school. The act of baking instantly warmed me with nostalgia.
For a few years, I was the only one who would eat my granola on my fruit and yogurt breakfast bowl. The seed and nut mixture turned off my crew. I would bring some in a Mason jar when we visited friends and I began delivering to friends when they needed a pick-me-up, were ill, or taking care of a sick family member. Eventually Todd swapped out his cereal with a to-go cup of yogurt, fruit and granola for his drive to work. Not sure when the boys followed, but I now make a double-batch each Sunday. We all enjoy a sprinkle on our breakfast or a handful as a snack. I have it ready when I need to deliver to a friend who needs a boost. It’s my way of sprinkling a little joy, straight from my kitchen to theirs.
Whether you are baking to ease your own stress, to connect to your senses or family, or to express your creativity, the end result will spread a little more joy. Or I have just given you the perfect excuse to dive into that warm apple pie.
Hard to Help the Helpers
When Todd injured his foot, Dylan appeared on our doorstep with a bucket of signature IPA beers, and a bottle of my favorite wine. Dylan was aware how just a small gesture of kindness could turn our moods around.
“I’m putting together a fundraising team for the Best Buddies ride,” Todd expressed to Dylan. “Happy to help” was Dylan’s immediate response. He did not burden Todd with the business trip he had to rearrange, kid’s activities he had to juggle, or his failing health. He met his fundraising goal, he conquered the 100-mile bike ride, and he met the team at the finish line for a celebratory lobster dinner, albeit tired and sore but without one complaint. Dylan was that guy who was always willing and happy to help. He seemed to find the reason to say ‘yes’ to your suggestion, versus his many well-justified reasons to say ‘no’. He would agree to anything on the spot and then go figure out how to make it happen. He was truly an amazing role model.
When I started teaching a 5:30 a.m. spin class, Dylan was the first person to sign-up and attend. To be truthful, he hated my spin class, complaining that it couldn’t compete with an outdoor ride but he faithfully attended in support and gave me music requests to make it more enjoyable. He eventually convinced others to join, which led to them doing a CrossFit class for years to come. In that same year, I joined the Goodnow Library Foundation and he offered to help me in my new fundraising role, providing his experience and insight from his time on the YMCA Board in Connecticut. Dylan believed in the power of community and wrote our first appeal letter urging our town to support the library. His creative efforts were successful and it started an annual tradition that continues through today. He knew how to ask for support.
It is hard to help the helpers. Dylan was battling a terminal illness that involved so many ups and downs and many of us struggled to find a way to support the man who lived much of his life helping others. Dylan's friends and family visited from all over to give him one last laugh and hug, which in hindsight turned out to be the best way to help the helper in his final chapter. He left much too early, but in his short years, he cemented a lifelong legacy of generosity, kindness, and love with so many.
We can help Dylan today by helping those he left behind. And don’t be shy about your efforts. Helping can be highly contagious.