We are one week in and #AdamsActs is on a mission to find and reward the unexpected kindness of Tom's long lost classmate. Please help us in FINDING FRANK!
It Takes a Village (and One Pack Mule)
A few months ago I made an exciting announcement in this embarrassing video. If you haven't watched it, then you might still be operating under the assumption that I'm not an idiot. That's so nice of you! But you'd be mistaken. In the video I describe in an obnoxiously choppy and drawn out way a charming fashion that I will be publishing a 31 day devotional to supplement #AdamsActs and my blog in the month of October. The downloadable file will be available for $1.99 on this website starting on October 1st.
Before I go any further, I am going to give a micro-explanation of what I am talking about. #AdamsActs is a kindness movement that I started in memory of my brother Adam who was killed at the age of 17. We do 31 random acts of kindness in his memory to spread love and good cheer during a month that used to put me in a funk of sadness. When sharing this deeply personal part of my family's story, I can't help but share the part of my story that is even more significant: my faith story.
I am unwilling to cheapen my faith in Jesus by being pushy about it so I tend to share less than I sometimes want. Still, there are a lot of readers who want to explore this faith I speak of, and they want to do it in an environment that is not initimidating or judgey. I decided to process some of the deeper faith components of grief and suffering in a separate place than the blog so that readers can choose to participate or not. This thing that I am calling a devotional is simply a series of meditations and thoughts to consider as we go through the month of October. My hope is that it challenges you to examine your beliefs and explore/consider deepening your faith. I also secretly hope that you laugh at my funny jokes.
It has been a labor of love and so much nausea to get this devotional written. It has taken a village to raise up this little project. On the village roster we have my friend Lexi who would kick me out of my house and take excellent care of my kids so I could go to the library and get work done... only to ambush me at said library with coffee. She amused herself in the process by taking absurd pictures of my striking resemblance to a pack mule.
Next on the village roster are my three editors. Greta (pictured below - in the middle) worked as my copy editor, tirelessly deleting 484 billion commas. I didn't know that I had a comma addiction. But, apparently, I, do, and, it's, super, annoying. She cleaned up my work significantly, and if you find any errors or typos... it's because I couldn't part with all the commas and I also came up on my deadline before she could make one final pass for edits. Also, it's a $1.99 so why don't you go ahead and simmer down on the expectations mmkay? Next on the roster, we have Char (pictured on the right with all the tats and a wicked mohawk) who combed through for any theological issues. She helped me answer questions like "Is it okay to call Jesus a baller?" For the record, the answer is no. No, it is not.
And then on the left we have Melissa who served as more of a line editor. She did a lot of the heavy lifting when I knew what I meant to say, but the reader maybe wouldn't. The 4:55am editing sesh was not a one time thing. She lives in Manahttan, so for this side by side situation to take place... she had to travel all the way here multiple times to help a sister out. Her help was invaluable to me.
My other villagers include a slew of people that Lexi and my friend Brandi manhandled into being on some sort of launch team to get a first look at the devo and share some of their favorite bits as a teaser for everyone else. Their positive reviews have been such an encouragement during these past few days of intense vulnerability hangover.
The mayor of this village of support is Heather (not pictured above) who is the designer for the devotional and is working on it as I write this. She sent me a sneak peek and I am telling you that she's a miracle worker because the crazy document I sent to her is looking clean, polished and professional, even if overly riddled with commas.
It was not all fun and games and I learned a lot about my shortcomings. Which I could have done without to be honest. I spent less time with my family than ever before, but Tom happily took on the extra responsibilities while I was tied up with the editing process. The kids were proud of me, and have been so encouraging and understanding. The best thing to come out of this process is the excitement my oldest daughter, Annalee, has expressed in participating in the devotional with the rest of us in October. Her supportive offer to "buy it at full price" made all the work worth it. Even if I felt like this the whole time...
If you are interested in participating in #AdamsActs or in downloading the devotional then here are a few things you can do:
- Skip on one cup of coffee this week and the cost is already in the budget.
- Subscribe to the blog here so it's super easy to follow along through the month
- And/or follow me on Facebook so you never miss an update.
- Download the devotional on October 1st right here on this website.
- Spread the word by liking and sharing posts in October.
- Find a group of people who might be interested in exploring faith and invite them to read and discuss the devotional with you.
- Send me a private message here if you are interested in joining a weekly discussion group about the devotional just for the month of October. If there is enough interest, I will create an opportunity for people from all over to join me online via Periscope or Facebook Live to do a Q&A and discussion once a week about what we are learning.
- Praise the Lord that this thing is finally done.
A Deadbeat Mom's Tips for Surviving Summer: Tip #3 Get a Puppy, or a Mulch Pile
For those of you who are rounding toward the home plate of summer’s end, I want to offer one more tip in this mini-series for surviving the summer with your kiddos home. I realize that my last tip was a bit more labor intensive… so for my final tip, I am offering two different options for summer fun, each requiring a very different level of effort on your part. It’s sort of like a choose-your-own regret-adventure, where you get to decide which approach best suits your family! What fun.
So, let’s cut to the chase. We did two really ambitious things this summer. While there are some fundamental differences between the two adventures, I submit that both have provided endless hours of entertainment for the children, both have taught our kids a sense of responsibility, both have taught me to release some control and live in the moment. Without further ado, I offer you your first option...
Tip #3A: Get a Puppy
On the last day of school, we surprised our five kids with a puppy. (Nobody should ever write that sentence because it is foolish and simply reading it makes my blood pressure go up.) Still, we did it. Because how much fun is it to surprise children with a gift-wrapped box filled to the brim with baby dog? And that moment was so much fun. And now... we have a dog forever.
I honestly have zero regrets though, because I am surprised and pleased to announce that I actually like this one particular dog. Just this one. On planet earth, there’s one fantastic pup and I found her living with an amish lady and a small amish child that likes to sit on pupppies. So, yes, I consider her a rescue dog, because how would you like to be trapped under so many apron layers?
Anyways, we rescued a dog and she is adorbsies and we love her. The children have begged for a pet since infancy, so this was nearly 14 years in the making. But, the best part is because we waited so long (and because I am the meanest mom on this side of the Mississippi) the kids are actually taking an active role in training and caring for her. It’s been really fun actually. Plus it gives me this great thing to throw out there for Mom points.
Child: Can we go to Seabreeze (our local amusement/water park)?
Me: We decided that instead of spending money on things like Seabreeze this summer, we would get you this puppy. (holds puppy in front of child and makes it “talk” in baby voice.)
Child: (Squealing with love and delight forgets that Seabreeze exists.)
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Child: Can I have a snack?
Me: Well, we have no food in the house because I haven’t gone to the store since ‘98, BUT… I did get you a puppy! (**hunger pangs forgotten**)
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Child: I think I might be growing out of my running shoes, do you think we could get new ones before cross country starts?
Me: Your feet don’t grow, we just got you a puppy!
Okay, so maybe it doesn’t work exactly like that. But, I do talk for the puppy in a variety of adorable accents which doesn’t annoy anyone ever. And having a new puppy does also provide a lot of great opportunities for the various sibling combinations to spend time together. Two kids are particularly whiny? Guess whose turn it is to take the dog for an extra long walk together!? Overall I would say it has been a sheer delight to have a pup in the fam. Oh, and she jingles a bell when she has to go out. #winning
I do realize that not everyone will want to rescue an amish dog, even if her ears are so big and adorable. So for those of you who are not interested, fret not, I still have a great plan for you!
I offer you...
Tip #3B Get a Mulch Pile!
If you can believe it, we’ve actually had our mulch pile even longer than our dog. In mulch years, we’ve had the pile for just over one century. We rescued the mulch pile from the town, because they just throw mulch in a huge parking lot and let people take it for free. It’s basically like a backyard breeding, mulch mill up in here. So, we brought home as much mulch as we felt prepared to neglect all summer long and we put it in a heap in the driveway.
Not our actual mulch pile. This is a dramatization.
And, just like our puppy, we have zero regrets about bringing this lovable pile of mulch home to tarnish our reputation by taking up permanent residence in our driveway. Also like the puppy, this pile of mulch has provided hours of messy entertainment for the children. And I think it has also earned me a bonus Mom point or two this summer.
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Child: We have literally no outdoor toys.
Me: That is not true. Your brother has been pushing mulch around with a skateboard for at least two hours. Umm summer fun much??
Child: (admits how blind she’s been to all the exciting, mulch-based opportunities and we both throw our heads back in hearty, good-natured laughter. Annnnnd end scene.)
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But don’t be fooled, just because mulchboard makes for premium outdoor fun, doesn’t mean there won’t be some whining. Remember the three kids that aren’t walking the puppy? That’s right, they’re also a little fussy and now guess who’s on deck for sweeping the mulch back into a pile? Hint: everyone. Because a mulch pile takes a lot of care and responsibility and people think kids aren’t ready for that kind of commitment, but I disagree. I think every child should experience what it’s like to grow up with a mulch pile in their yard.
Here are 5 Ways to Tell if Your Child is Ready for a Pet and/or Pile:
Your child is comfortable and respectful around animals or mulch.
Your family can agree on the type of pet or mulch that is right for your family.
Your child can hold a leash or broom.
Your child has given pet-sitting a trial run, or played in the neighbor’s mulch or something?
Your child is very sick of having zero outdoor toys.
Photo courtesy of vermontvalleyfarm.wordpress.com featuring the ever-ambitious dog-mulch combo pack.
So there you have it. Two fantastic options to engage your kids all summer long by making a decision that will last so much longer than one summer, and ultimately be your problem when the kids go back to school in three weeks!
A DeadBeat Mom's Tips for Surviving Summer: Tip #1 Tattle Tax
In New York, our summer weather lasts for five whole entire minutes. And not, like, five minutes in a row or anything. What I mean is that from May until September there will be five perfect minutes dispersed willy nilly throughout the months. Half of those precious, sunshiny minutes will take place while you are in the waiting room at the orthodontist. The other half of the minutes will appear, without warning, sandwiched in between hail and an inexplicable windpocalypse. And this half of the minutes are magical. Like a unicorn.
Because of the severe lack of awesome weather here, it feels like a crime against humanity that our kids go to school until nearly the end of June. This year, they missed ⅓ of the nice weather minutes because they were still in school. And it wasn't like they were even being educated at this point… they were just barely contained because everyone under the age of 100 goes absolutely bananas when there is finally nice weather. So, the kids are learning nothing but Flag Day songs, while the NWM (nice weather minutes) are just evaporating into the atmosphere - to be immediately replaced by 99.75% humidity.
By early June, I start seeing pictures on Facebook of kids’ last day of school. By mid-June, people are camping and hosting neighbors for bonfires. By the end of June, everyone else is enjoying the “staycation” portion of summer. But oh no, not here in New York. Here, at the end of June, we still got field day so…
But here I am now, four weeks (and 4.5 NWM) into the shortest summer vacation in America, and I am wondering how on earth I will make it to September. I don’t know about everyone else, but summer days are longggggg when you’re home with five kids (and it won’t stop raining.) Now, don’t get me wrong here. I love my precious angel babies, and by the time school ends I am equal parts excited, relieved, and terrified. It’s “a different kind of busy!” than the school year, I cheerfully tell people at the grocery store as a gaggle of children follow behind me, just wanting gum so bad.
And it’s true, it’s definitely a different kind of busy. It’s the kind of busy that makes me hide in the basement for three minutes and forty eight seconds, so I can just watch one America’s Got Talent audition video on youtube. Because, those auditions are life. Those auditions make me weep, and then believe in myself. And I am inspired to go on.
And in the spirit of going on, I will be doing a mini-series of blogs about how to survive the remainder of the summer. If you only read one tip, this is the one to read, because it will not only change your summer with your children… but it will change your whole life.
You will want to make out with my husband after you read this, because he is responsible for the brilliance that IS... Tip #1. You may not make out with him - you homewrecker - but I can understand why you’d be tempted, because this tip for summer survival is the single reason that my children are still allowed to live in my house. Without further ado, I offer you…
TIP #1: Immediately institute the TATTLE TAX.
As citizens of our home, the children have certain inalienable rights. Not many, but, whatevs… everyone’s eating, alright? Our citizens also have certain responsibilities. These vary depending on the child’s age, ability, special skill set and whether or not I am spazzing about company coming. And then there are the privileges. These can be earned or lost depending solely on my mood and how many times that day I have been asked for gum. Beyond the rights, responsibilities and privileges, we also offer our citizens certain services.
Enter: taxes.
As benevolent dictators, one service that we will provide the citizens of our home is that of conflict mediation. If our citizens cannot or will not independently resolve a conflict, and we receive an “incident report” (formerly known as tattling), we happily provide the service of mediation… as long as both parties have paid their taxes. For the reasonable tariff (one completed chore) we will provide our citizens with the invaluable service of conflict management. The plaintiffs must complete the chore TOGETHER and to my satisfaction and once the tax has been collected, conflict resolution will be promptly executed.
Guess what my kids don’t do anymore?
That’s right. Tattle.
You know what they do now? They talk it through like the angelic creatures I taught them to be. Or they stuff their feelings and move on. I honestly don’t care which it is. Because all I know is that I have gotten hours of my life back, and my kids are learning the valuable lesson of letting go of an offense instead of always getting their mother involved. Do you know how much better they will be at life because they are learning to solve and/or avoid their problems? So much better.
I will say that I have, on occasion, allowed tax exemptions for extenuating circumstances. If someone comes for help because they or another child is in danger? Tax break. If an older (trusted) child is appropriately coaching a younger citizen, and the younger party is still, I don’t know, let’s say… licking the window like a feral cat, backup will be provided and read my lips, no. new. taxes.
But apart from these unusual scenarios, tattling is virtually a thing of the past. In it’s place is the very lucrative business of tax collecting. And - all kidding aside - my kids really are learning the valuable lessons essential for the success of all human relationships: Which offenses are worth sorting out? Which issues must be accepted vs. hashed out? Is it more important to win an argument or to come to a compromise? How do we deal with irrational people? How do we speak up for ourselves and/or negotiate? How to listen and forgive and repair relationships.
And, most importantly, how to make vacuuming a two man job.
Spanking in Public & How to Parent Like a Total Boss
I'm pretty sure my kids' principal saw me spank my husband in the school parking lot. I know what you're thinking...
"nbd, we've all been there." Right? That IS what you were thinking wasn't it?
No? Just us with the spanking?
Alright, well... if you'd had our morning you, too, would have some celebratory victory-swatting going on in public. Because this particular spank was about 3 years in the making.
It all started when our son (now 9 years old) was in first grade. He needed some extra support because we were seeing signs of Reactive Attachment Disorder, yet were not aware of what he was actually struggling with. Without a diagnosis, there is very little support, so we ended up pulling Harper out of school half way through first grade. We had a tutor come to our home for an hour a day just so he wouldn't fall behind, but academics were the least of our worries. We spent that time home doing a lot of - what we lovingly refer to as - baby-ducking. Baby-ducking is a part of the therapeutic approach we were taking, and it's a really fun little descriptor that essentially means that your child is following you around 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, ya know, like a baby duck. I know it doesn't sound bad, but I assure you that it's pretty exhausting and much less adorable when baby duck (thinks he) hates your guts.
By the time we enrolled him back in school for second grade we were working closely with an excellent therapist who specializes in disordered and insecure attachment. We had comprehensive testing done to ensure that Harper not only had a diagnosis, but all the tests and evaluations required to meet New York State's criteria to receive special education services. But here's the thing... we thought that was all we needed. We thought, "we don't have to be "those parents" who go in and demand all kinds of services, because our kid has a legit thing." And this "thing" is no longer an illusive, mysterious set of symptoms that make me look crazy. Finally, we had a well-documented, official DSM certified Severe Emotional Disturbance!! (You know you're in a rough patch when that last sentence is the good news.) Still, we thought we had everything we would need.
We were wrong.
Apparently, we needed to get to a point where I ALSO had a severe emotional disturbance.
Check, annnnnd check. (See post about the time I went B-A-N-A-N-A-S here.)
After the bananas, we knew that we had gotten to the point where we were willing to be "those parents" and we then requested another CSE meeting. So, on Thursday my husband, Tom, and I went in. He was a total boss. To be fair, he was the kind of boss who is so steady and relaxed, you wonder if he might be stoned... but he was a boss nonetheless. (*He was also not stoned, mom, so settle down.) He's just really calm and so nice by nature that he can't even be a boss in an unpleasant way. He (waaaaaay over-)prepared information from some intimidating group called something like The Justice League of Super Hero Lawyers for Moms About to Lose their Ever Lovin' Minds. And before the meeting, he even sent a semi-scary email, in which, he took a firm and serious tone.
It was pretty hot.
Riding Tom's over-prepared coattails, I closed in with an impassioned speech about why Harper truly does need to have an aide assigned to him - at least during unstructured times, like recess, lunch, etc. I didn't cry or start spontaneously swearing, which is how I usually imagine myself unraveling in these high-stress scenarios because I have been teetering precariously at the edge of insanity all school year.
So here we are, at the end of third grade, and WE HAVE ARDENTLY AND SUCCESSFULLY ATTAINED AN IEP!!
Not only did we get that Individualized Education Plan in place, but we have secured a 1-to-1 aide for our guy during all unstructured times - which is when a child like ours really needs the extra support. I had been told repeatedly that getting an aide for him would be an impossibility. I mean, MULTIPLE times, I was told "It's never going to happen."
So, forgive me if I walked out of that building with so much relief and empowerment that I spanked my husband while aggressively sports-yelling at the side of his face "We did it son!"
How was I to know that the school psychologist and principal would be right behind us? After our performance, one could only have assumed that all other meeting participants would still be in the conference room, doing slo-mo replays of our boss-like successes in parental advocacy. How was I to know that they would just leave the meeting after it was done? When such dope parenting had just taken place before their very impressed eyes, how could I conceive that they would have the wherewithal to move on to the parking lot?
Ah well, at least they didn't see all the chest-bumping and athletic growling that I forced Tom to participate in when we got home.
Actual photograph of us on Thursday morning...
And all Thursday night...
And well into Friday...
Wave after wave of glorious relief on Saturday...
Then Easter Sunday we took a break from all the fanfare, to celebrate a much greater victory... Jesus overcoming death and evil.
But this morning, I'm not gonna lie. The sense of triumph came back full force.
Next year, this child of ours will go on to a bigger school, with more transitions, more kids, more freedom, less structure. This is good for a lot of kids, most kids in fact. For my child, however, this transition was like a train heading straight for us. We kept seeing it approach, the speed never changing and all we can do as parents is anticipate the damage that will be done on impact. So, we prayed and prayed and prayed. And Tom prepared and prepared and prepared. And I went just a titch ballistic. And we became "those parents" because the alternative was simply too dangerous for our kid.
So... spanks all around. Because I know that this taste of relief is temporary. This rare and glorious optimism that maybe next year will be a little better and little easier than the last, is fleeting. We needed that victory spank. We needed a triumph. Because even though we really do believe in a God whose only son was sent to earth to triumph, once and for all, over death and evil... we know that life on this side of heaven, is still wrought with train after train, pain after pain. And though we have fought long and hard for our bizarre little children to feel a little safer, a little better, on the tracks... life always has another train ready to barrel over us. It sounds a little doomsday, I know, but pain and suffering are just a reality in the life of a human and I accept that a new obstacle, a new train, will be set in our son's path. But, we've worked really hard to learn our stuff, to drop the right names, to know his rights, so until we stare down that next train... we get to bask in the sweet relief of a temporary win on earth, and an eternal win beyond these earthly tracks.
And when you are in that place - a place of hope and favor and full, unrestrained joy... a place of amazement at God's faithfulness in this victory and the victory on the cross - you really must spank someone in the parking lot. Because these moments are all we have to sustain and energize us as we over-prepare for the next fight, like a total and complete boss.
Travel Dance Video: Bestiemoon Take Deux
So, I have sat down multiple times to write about our amazing trip to France. If you don't know what I am talking about, let me get you up to speed. My friend Melissa is a world traveler. She has friends and connections all over the place, enough airline points to make you hate her just a little, (except you can't because she's so stinkin' generous with them), and she doesn't take no for an answer. So, she essentially manhandles me into taking epic vacations with her. It's a terrible friendship and this whole post is basically a cry for help.
Okay, for realsies... the trip was fabulous. The only reason I haven't written about it yet is because Melissa and I are going to tell the story together on video because I promise it will be so much better that way. We were in Paris for a few days, then popped over to Finland for a few days, then back to Paris, then to Provence (where my world changed and I got in touch with my roots in a major way) then back to Paris for the last few days. I ate croissants to celebrate the life and memory of my beautiful friend Karolin who commanded me to go to Paris and have fun. So we had the most fun.
And, we danced.
We danced all over Europe. Usually at inappropriate times. We danced with new friends and perfect strangers and our French and Finnish hosts.
And we made a video of it. Because I secretly want us to host our own travel show and making an absurd travel dance video seemed as good a means to that end as any.
What you are about to experience is a bit of an early Christmas gift. So, Merry Christmas to all and to all a You're Welcome.
Love, Tom, Melissa and Lara
Day 27: Tantrum Acts of Kindness
Day 27 was a cold one. We woke up to a dark, snowy morning and since we all know that #iquitwhenitscold I was not thrilled for the winter to pop by this early in the season. And while my hibernation intincts to store food in my pillowcase and just hole up til spring were kicking in like nobody's business, I pushed through to the bright side. And the bright side is that I have waited for a snowy October day for forever! I have dreamed of bringing hot chooclate to the crossing guard near the middle school on the first really cold day of the year. And it was finally here! And I knew just the right person to treat! This guy is a little bit older, and he singlehandedly mans the busiest intersection in the neighborhood.
So, when I woke up to this:
I call this Phase 1: Frosted Mini Wheat Snow. It gets worse, and there are many levels of torture involved, but this is the beginning.
I decided to make the best of it. I would bring the crossing guard a hot drink on the first really cold day of the year. This guy is faithfully out at that intersection every single morning, and every single afternoon all year long.
Except for today. Of course.
Fortunately, I had already arranged to bring Harper's teacher her dream lunch today as well, so it wasn't a complete bust. I also extended the kindness of extra treats to my kids, because it is sometimes hard watching their mom just hand out candy and special lunches willy nilly, when you are getting the same old turkey on wheat that you always get.
Jay, in particular, seems to be enduring the greatest temptations.
He starts off strong, ready to give joyfully, then crumbles upon learning that he will not be getting his dream lunch any time soon.
You can see the evolution of emotions he experiences as we wait for Mrs. Mendicino's dream lunch.
We start here with a relatively strong smile and willing participation.
He starts to realize that maybe he doesn't care to wait here for something he won't be enjoying, but the one side of his mouth still has enough fortitude to muster half a fake smile.
Here we have stage three, as you can see the clenched and extended neck area shows building emotional distress, head thrown back in exasperation, but feelings are being stuffed in hopes that forced politeness will earn a handsome reward.
Reality sets in. Hopes are dashed. Fake smile, and entire face, disappear behind the goods. Tantrum ensues.
So, I resolved to really let them enjoy some extra dessert tonight. My friend Nan had so graciously made our family an apple crisp, and the kids were looking forward to having some after dinner. Apparently, Annalee discovered that I had "taste tested" a small bit, and sent a very clear message that she was watching.
Even though my hot chocolate mission was a fail because there wasn't a crossing guard there to guard all the crossing, I didn't report the old man who had clearly abandoned his post. I am not sure if that is kindness or negligence on my part, but we can just call this one a draw.
I really can't believe that we only have four days left of October. I have gotten a lot of messages from people expressing regret that they just learned what #AdamsActs is all about, and they feel as though they missed the opportunity. I am toying with the idea of making #AdamsActs an all year thing. I would continue to particpate at this level only in October, but I have been asked to speak about this movement in November, and I love the idea of issuing different schools, different communities, different churches, teams, organizations... the challenge of doing one full month of kindness throughout the year. I know why I do it in October, but there is no reason that I can't challenge other groups of people to do it any time of year. So, whatchya think guys? Can you think of a youth group, or a small group, or a neighborhood, or a book club, etc. that might be up for taking charge of a month? If thousands of people can spread this much kindness in the month of October, how many more people could #catchthekindness throughout the year? A wise and beautiful woman with an unbeleivable heart of gold (yes, that's you Sue Delgatti) said to me, "When this month is over, I am going to keep #AdamsActs going. I say #ContinueTheKindness." I like how Sue thinks.
I don't know what this would look like, but I know that my life's mission is to share this story of redemption with as many people as the Lord wants to put in front of me. I truly believe that God takes the worst of us, the worst of our experiences, the worst of our pain... and transforms it into something purposeful and beautiful if we allow him to. My passion is to share that truth with as many people as possible. So, if you have a group that could benefit from the good news that redemption and healing are possible, I wold love to share this story and invite others to join in the movement to be more actively and intentionally kind. I believe that we should give sacrificially, but joyfully. We should give 'til it hurts a little, then do it anyway, knowing that ultimate joy comes from loving and serving others ahead of ourselves. Don't we all feel a little tantrum-y like Jay when we really give big? And I have to be honest, the thought of pouring my story out year round is just about enough to make me throw myself on the floor and roll around a little... but I also know that some stories are just too big to confine to 31 days. Some things - like radical kindness, like overcoming grief, like sharing life with others - just might need to happen all year long.
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If you are interested in booking a speaking event, or have a group in mind that might be interested in participating in #AdamsActs for one month in 2017, contact Lara here.
Day 26: Video Fail, Kindness Success
This video is Tom and my relationship in a nutshell. I'm obnoxious, insecure and hyper, sort of like a puppy. He is sensible and quick to end our hilarity out of embarrassment. Because he insisted on shutting down my attempt to share all my kindnesses (which was clearly going so well) I will give a brief overview. Day 26 included hosting our community group here because the planned hosts had a stomach bug. I sent a few notes of appreciation to various people who have supported me during different seasons of my life, and I also sent messages to people who are going through difficult times. I checked in, asked how I could pray, and tried to brighten their day a bit. But mostly, I intend to brighten your evening with this uncensored peek into our marriage.
Day 18: Fine Tom, We Can do a Video.
When the man gets his mind set on something, there's no changing it. #AdamsActs includes doing a video when your husband just won't stop begging.
How I Met the President of the United States
When I told London, my six year old, that we would be meeting President Obama, she desperately begged us to bring her along. When I told her that would not be possible, she desperately asked that at the very least could I please, please, please cut off just a little bit of his hair and bring it back for her. If you think that is odd and creepy, just wait.
Because it gets worse.
When I inquired as to why on earth she would need some of the President of the United State's hair, she replied condescendingly, "ummm, so I can put it in a baggie to compare it to Donald Trump's when I get some of his." She said this with the full confidence of someone who has been diligently harvesting politicians' hair for comparison for years, and has no intention of letting me or anyone else prevent her from doing her life’s work.
I am not known to have the best filter, so I am not exaggerating when I admit that NOT telling President Obama this story was possibly the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Still, I didn't want to be escorted out of the United Nations because I was a perceived threat to Obama’s sideburns, so I kept that wonderfully strange 6 year old's request for presidential trimmings, all to myself.
Here's what did happen though.
My friend, Melissa, works for the State Department in Manhattan and does really important and official government things. I could go into detail about her job, because I totally understand what she does for a living. I'm not being evasive because I don't understand, that would be ridiculous and super embarrassing. It's more that I'm afraid that others won't understand because of all the big words that I would have to use, and I don't want to exhaust my readers with my deep and impressive knowledge of the inner-workings of our government offices.
Okay fine, I have no idea what she actually does. I think maybe she's a spy?
But she's more than your run of the mill spy friend. She's also a super thoughtful, generous and wonderful friend... so she snagged tickets for my husband, Tom, and I to join her at a St.Lucia concert. The concert was Tuesday, but we were able to arrange for my mother-in-law and my friend Lexi (two other super thoughtful, generous and wonderful, non-spy, women in my life) to tag-team watching our five kids so we could visit with our favorite spy for a few days. Before we left, we had this text exchange:
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Melissa: Hey I threw you on the guest list to meet Obama, so I need you guys to pack one professional outfit for your visit.
Tom: Ok, I'm already panicking.
Me: It's hilarious that you think I own professional wear.
This is how we found out that we were going to be meeting POTUS.
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So Monday afternoon we were going to meet the president. Tom and I spent Monday morning very close to the epicenter of the bomb that went off on Saturday night, so navigating that part of the city was much slower and a bit more high-intensity than we have experienced during previous visits. There were heavily armed law enforcement all around the active crime scene, as well as throughout the city because Obama and all the other important people were in Manhattan for the UN General Assembly.
Tom and I had to sit in our car for an hour and a half waiting to move it in case the street sweeper came through, and we passed that time watching The Blacklist on my phone.
My friend Julie got us completely hooked on the show because she thinks my husband Tom looks like the character from the show, who is also named Tom. We have been binge-watching it on Julie’s recommendation ever since. So, there we are, sitting in our car watching this intense crime-thriller about an FBI profiler who is working with a notorious fugitive as covert operatives for a secret counter-terrorism unit. And we are basically in the middle of a live episode unfolding around us, complete with an active bombing site and snipers on the roof above us. The only thing missing was Agent Navabi kicking some terrorist tail.
Agent Navabi at your service.
By the time we were in the clear to leave our car parked on the street, we got ready to meet the President. We were both excited and a little nervous that I would mention London's strange request. I kept replaying my conversation with her, especially the ending when she panic-added one final plea, "Come on, I'll even take a little pit hair if you can get it!" (How does this child expect that I might happen upon a pit hair sample?) But I digress... the point is that we were already nervous that I would get arrested by secret service for saying/doing something foolish. On top of that, we were just generally amped up about meeting Obama. Then, our anxieties were heightened because there was a terrorist at large who was responsible for planting multiple bombs in the area. And finally, we were binge watching a TV show that depicted all of our worst nightmares coming true. Let's just say we were all on high alert.
Okay, maybe Melissa wasn't on high alert, but Tom and I were losing our heads.
So, you can imagine my concern for Tom's growing paranoia as we are in a room in the US Mission to the UN, waiting to hear the President speak, when he is suddenly sure he sees Agent Navabi. Except he wasn't being paranoid at all. AGENT NAVABI WAS ACTUALLY THERE.
At this point I don't know what's TV and what's reality because as far as I can tell, I am about to hang out with Barack Obama and Agent Navabi. It was very disorienting. But I pulled it together and went to speak with the beautiful Mozhan Marnò (aka Agent Navabi), who is even more fabulous in person than she is on the show. I chatted with her for a few brief minutes - just to confirm that I was not having a hallucination - and the guy with her took a picture of us with my phone. It was blurry, so we chastised him playfully and realized that us two, tall, gangly women have arms that are basically like selfie sticks, and we took our own pictures. Ya know, how old friends (like Mozhan and I) do.
Shortly after this surreal moment, John Kerry and Samantha Power came in with THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, Barack Obama. I don’t care what anyone’s political views are, you have to admit that it’s pretty cool to be in the same room as the leader of the free world.
I definitely got caught up in the moment, because as Obama was thanking all the spies and other important government people like Melissa and Agent Navabi and their colleagues, I forgot that I was there as a guest just “thrown” on the list, willy nilly, at the last minute. I forgot that I don’t actually work for the government. In that moment, I believed President Obama when he thanked us all for a job well done and told us that our hard work mattered and was noticed and appreciated. When I came out of my fog, I realized he was probably talking to Melissa for, ya know, doing stuff like going to Sierra Leone on the Ebola Crisis Response Team. Twice. So when I came to and realized that he maybe wasn’t talking about all the laundry I do, I felt a little deflated. Still, when he said to give ourselves a round of applause, I let myself participate because it seemed unpatriotic not to feel just a little appreciated by the President. Besides, I do a butt-ton of laundry for this country.
After his little speech, he kissed babies and shook hands and then there, right in front of me, was my opportunity.
So I shoved my hand out to Obama and proceeded to tell him (a little too loudly) the only interesting anecdote about him that I had - that didn’t involve me procuring a sample of his pit fibers. I told him that my son, Harper, used to believe that President Obama and Whitney Houston were his birthparents.
I want to assure you that Harper has joyfully given me permission to share this story with you all because he finds it as amusing and adorable as we do. It’s actually quite common for children who were adopted to fantasize about who their birthparents might be. And for Harper, no fantasy was more impressive than being the love child of Whitney and Barack. Obama joked that Michelle might be irritated to discover this and that he and Harper could at least be buddies. He was a good sport, and basically made all of Harper’s dreams come true by initiating the start of their friendship.
I’d say that although our exchange was brief, conveying to the first black president in our nation’s history that my black son admires him to the point of wishing for his paternity, it was pretty memorable.
Maaaaybe not as memorable as if I had then snagged a hair sample for DNA testing… but, we can’t have it all.