Remembering to ask

I am in the empty nest. Finally. It happened. Delayed by a year due to COVID, as of a few weeks ago, all my chicks have flown and the house is quiet.  I share it with my one year old aussie labrodoodle Charlie, who was a gift to our household during the first months of the pandemic, providing emotional distraction and support to counter the anxiety, sadness, and loneliness felt by my children as their paths were sidelined and they found themselves home.

Charlie has not disappointed. He is loving and fun and always ready to play or cuddle and can switch gears appropriately.  My children have taught him how to hug. Literally.  This started when he was a wee pup and it continues to this day.  The unfortunate consequence is that he has developed the bad habit of wanting to hug as soon as someone arrives through the door, which looks and feels a lot more like jumping up (which most people don’t like so much) – but if you make it to the couch and rest back, the hug will engulf you, his legs on either shoulder and his head resting next to yours (with the occasional lick and sniff of course.)

So now with the children gone. The house is quiet.  Charlie and I have our daily routines and frankly he seems a bit depressed.  He does not have the perspective of how they were stuck home wanting to be at away at college or properly launched and living independently away from home. He just knew the time when they were here, and now his humans are gone. 

He has taken to resting on the bottom step or the top step, just waiting and looking.  What has been perhaps most mystifying, is that when I get home at lunch time for our walk or at the end of the work day, he does not move.  He does not get up to greet me, he just waits there.  I have to encourage and cajole and ask him to come down for his walk. It has been strange.

For a bit, I chalked it up to the emptiness of the house and perhaps that is it.  Recently however, the lack of enthusiasm and jumps and hugs coming my way has made me a bit resentful, and even sort of sad.  I have even caught myself feeling jealous when Charlie greets my girlfriend at the door with the same sort of unbridled love and joy that he would show my children.  I have a feeling that I never quite noticed that I did not get the same sort of greeting.

This past week, on one such regular quiet day, I got home and made my lunch, leaving Charlie to his own devices at the top step.  After eating my lunch, I sat down on the couch and leaned back, the way my son would when getting a Charlie hug.  I called to Charlie and within a moment, he was up on my chest, little legs on either shoulder giving me some kisses and snuggles.

I realized something.  All I needed to do was ask.  All those other days, Charlie did not know that I wanted a hug.  I had never asked him for one before. 

I realized that there is a truth here that applies to all relationships – human and otherwise. 

Often we can be in our own heads about someone or something they are or are not doing.  We might feel resentful, jealous, bewildered – and asking ourselves why?  Why are they not getting up to say hello? Or invite me to the party? Or the book club? Why don’t they love me? Do they not even like me?

And I realized that maybe, when we are in our head and wondering all those wonderings and making all those assumptions, that we need to ask ourselves, did we let them know we were interested, lonely, wanting, needing that hug?  To somehow communicate of interest, curiosity or desire? Did we remember to ask?

I know that I may come across to many as a whole put together happy human.  And for the most part, that is true – but I have that soft underbelly just like the rest of us – and sometimes, most times, I just need a hug. 

Next time, I have to remember to ask.

Close to shore

Sunday morning swim at Walden. I didn’t make it out as early as I would have wanted, but it was just as beautiful. After my open swim, where I began at the pond’s edge and swam straight out into the open water, standing at the shore, I watched a strong swimmer, inside the roped off swim area close to shore. He was swimming laps. Back and forth.

There is this huge beautiful open space to swim, where one does not need to consider turning or going back and forth – there is an invitation to swim as far as you can without stopping, up to a mile. Yet, this strong swimmer chose to swim laps, five yards from shore; preferring to stay restricted. Did it feel safer? Was it easier to quantify the distance? Why so tamed?

How often in life do we choose the same kind of safety? When the challenge or opportunity of an open pond, a wide open opportunity to see how far you can go; instead do we choose to stay within our box? A safe place where we go back and forth instead of forward. Where we can touch down and feel the bottom below our feet, instead of going deep.

I felt a sort of sorry for the man. Sad, that he wouldn’t see the big invitation to the wide open. That he was stuck in the back and forth close to shore, safety. Sure, he was getting the same exercise, but was it the same? Where was freedom, risk, adventure?

He is perhaps home now, also drinking coffee and reflecting on his morning swim at Walden. Did he see me with my orange bubble, swimming out alone to an unforeseen end and think me foolish? Unsafe perhaps? And unable to truly measure how far I was going? Perhaps.

Heart health

February is heart health month. Good awareness for all that teeter on the edge of heart health. The heart is both the strongest and the weakest muscle in our body. Magnificent in what it does every single moment of every single day. Until it doesn’t. Until something happens.

I want to share a story. A story that still scares me and that perhaps will forever be a source of flashbacks, discomfort, and the oh so ever knowing that but for the grace of God or the universe or just dumb luck, my beautiful son, my beautiful perfectly healthy son, my beautiful perfectly healthy athletic son almost died. Because his heart stopped.

It was a regular ordinary sort of six o’clock. I was making burgers. Grill firing up. My eldest son was upstairs changing out of his work clothes and my daughter was about to set the table. My beautiful oh so perfectly healthy son was on the couch, scolling through his phone and texting his other brother something like where the heck are you, mom’s about to put dinner on the table.

And then, my daughter saw something. Something not right. Out of the corner of her eye. While she was setting the table for the first time in forever. She yelled to me, and because as parents we know the tone and tenor of our children’s voice, I ran to the living room.

And there, that perfectly healthy oh so athletic twenty two year old son of mine was under attack. His body was failing. He was gasping, reeling back, eyes closed, fighting something we could not see.

I yelled to my eldest to call 911. We pulled the seizing not breathing, dying son to the floor. And every muscle and instinct in my body took over. Years of annual CPR training at a preschool where I used to work all came back to me. I knew he was not breathing. I felt for a non existent pulse and I started yelling at him to wake up and I started to push down with both hands linked in the center of his chest with all my might. With every single bit of me. I did not stop until the EMTs arrived five minutes later.

And then it was just like a movie or a hospital drama tv show. They flew into purpose – attaching him to a machine that would take over the chest compressions. Cutting off his clothes. preparing to shock his heart. They yelled “CLEAR” and with that my oh so beautiful healthy athletic son lifted up off the floor and down. Then silence for a second or forever and all eyes on the little monitor that was showing just some straight lines. We yelled. We told him to come back. My other children crying.

And then, the lines turned. And jumped and so did his heart. They stabilized him. They put him on a stretcher. They whisked him away in an ambulance and we followed.

The days ahead were filled with questions and finally answers. We were so blessed and fortunate to have access to that kind of healthcare.

The story continues, but for now it is simply this. Learn CPR. Again or for the first time. I will be ever grateful that I was there and I knew what to do. His brain was never deprived of oxygen. He survived.

Learn CPR. It is no longer about breathing and filling up the lungs with your exhale. Its all about the pumping of the heart. The recirculating of the oxygenated blood that is already in the body.

So, yes, February is heart health month. For most of us that might mean something. For all of us, that must be a reminder of the fragility of the strongest muscle in our body. And that we can help it keep pumping for someone else if we know what to do – even if we think it will never happen.

I never thought that my oh so healthy twenty-two year old captain of his college basketball team would almost die on a Monday night. But an arrhythmia does not come with a warning sign.

Thank you CPR trainers. Thank you Massachusetts Department of Early Education and Care that makes it a license requirement that all teachers are trained in CPR. Thank you American Red Cross. Thank you Lexington EMTs and first responders and all of the doctors, nurses, and medical support professionals at Lahey Clinic who combined to save his beating heart.


Feels like my world is filled with cliches right about now.  How time ended up going so fast, how she grew up too quickly, how did we get here.  The nest won’t be empty due to the pandemic – but life will also never quite be the same.  There is nothing like a daughter and I have been blessed beyond measure with mine.

We are all artists

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Sunflowers. That was the inspiration.  Brought in to observe and to dissect and to create.  A celebration of fall and September.

The children were provided with time and materials.  Each creating their artwork in a likeness based on their own ideas – choosing the materials they wanted to use.  This to me is what makes it magical here.  To be sure of no right answer; to have no final expectation of what it should look like; to offer no judgment.  Children know all about wonder and about experimentation and exploration.


If I could choose one that would most dramatically embody what I think is representative of what is essential about a child’s experience at CNS – it would be this cubist interpretation of the flower.  This is what CNS is all about.  Allowing that child to be inspired and to create. To not lose their own magic and feel the pressure to create a flower that looks just like a flower or like someone else’s idea of a flower. Wouldn’t it be great if we could all feel such freedom?

Stop Worrying. BE HERE NOW.


Will my child have friends?

Will she be ready for kindergarten?

Does she know her letters?

How about her colors?

Is she having enough playdates? (Seems like everyone is having playdates.)

And what should we do to celebrate her birthday? And, oh yes, the goody bags!

We all do it. We all worry about our children.Whether its about friends, or learning, or getting ready for something else. We want to do this parenting thing right.  They are our hearts living outside our bodies and the responsibility we feel is heavy.

Here is my simple message for you: BE HERE NOW.

Don’t spend your energy on something else that is coming later. Don’t worry about later now. Later will be different if your child grows up with a parent who is present in her life now. Later will be different if your child grows up with a parent who is not present in her life now.

Put down your phone. Unless it is an emergency having to do with your other child, your partner, your brother, or an emergency. Just put it down.

What could be more important than giving your full attention to those you love? Especially at the meal table.  Stop looking down to check email or twitter or instagram or your feed of whatever. It can wait.  Even an email from me. You are modeling behavior to your child that they are less important. Less deserving. You are also modeling  relationship and they will emulate your behavior later. They see everything that you do. Make sure that they know they are deserving of your time. Your attention. Your presence. Be with them when you are with them.

Be direct.  Be a parent.  Not everything is a negotiation.  Not everything is a question. Somethings are for safety.  You need to hold their hand in parking lots.  A child running across a parking lot into the path of a car that is backing up is not asserting his independence and you are not empowering him.  Hold his hand.

And lastly. I have written about this in the past. The importance of happiness. I do not think it can be overstated. Having older children now, I have a longer view of childhood and I see where it is going. And all I can tell you is this. Unless your child has a significant developmental need, they are all going to learn how to read, how to be a friend, and how to survive their schooling. They will know their letters and colors.  They will fall in love. They will be hurt and they will find their passion.  If they want to, they will go to college. If they want to, they will dance or play sports, or debate, or play the violin. But what they need to get there is the simplest thing in the world. It isn’t extra enrichment classes or playdates – it is your LOVE AND ACCEPTANCE. LOVE AND ACCEPTANCE. For who they are. Right now.

So, hug, touch, say it.  All they need is love.


This is the time of year for Happy. Happy New Year! Wishing you a…happy…new…year. Happy.

I spend time thinking about happy. Being happy. My own happiness and that of my children. Happiness. Because without it – there really is not much else. Without a sense of peace and calm and happy, no matter what one has done or the size of a bank account, or the accomplishments of a career – it all amounts to really nothing. Happiness. That is the goal.

And yet, it is easy to forget. We can get caught up in preparations and planning – whether for social reasons or achievement. How many of us deliberately contemplate play dates or registrations or Hayden or soccer or dance or math – just to be sure we are creating and cultivating of a child that is prepared for the next level. Of friendship. Of school. Of athletics. Of success.

I know. I was there. Too.

But it leaves out an important element. Their happiness. And that is the one element that is most vital to their life and their well-being.

When children are young – they only know what you create for them. Their world is all yours to control. You control their happy. What they do; where they go; what they eat; who they see. It is all on you. The decisions you make. The priorities you set.

And so this is what I know now – as a parent of three very large teenagers and a twenty year old. Happiness is the most important goal of all. Not how early they read or how well they can solve math problems or how complex the lego model is that they just created or which Harry Potter book they just finished. It really is so simple. Prioritize happy above all else. It really does not matter if they are going to a great college if they are unhappy. And a parent can only be as happy as their most unhappy child. Take my word for it; they will all get there – just make sure you care more about their happy than you do about anything else.

Prioritizing happy does not mean giving them everything they want; it does not mean rewards; it does not mean playdates; it does not mean wish fulfillment; it does not mean ‘yes’ to everything they ask for or of you.

Prioritizing happy means: a consistent routine and home life; it means unconditional love; it means predictability; it means honesty; it means time and space within boundaries; it means naps in the middle of the day; it means slowing down and it means family dinners. It means playing or doing for fun and not because you think you ought to; it means playdates that are natural and like breathing; not something that needs to be scheduled or forced or created just so you feel like you are tending to their yet to be developed social needs.

Happy New Year. To you. And while you are thinking so much about your child’s happiness. Please, most of all – remember this: your happiness is just as important. Without your happiness and peace, nothing else can really happen. Your children know you better than you think and most of all, they feel you. All the time. They know your happy and they know your sad. And it all flows from there. So tend to yourself. Whatever that means for you. I speak from experience. If you neglect to take care of yourself, it will catch up with you.

“What I like doing best is Nothing.”

“How do you do Nothing,” asked Pooh after he had wondered for a long time.

“Well, it’s when people call out at you just as you’re going off to do it, ‘What are you going to do, Christopher Robin?’ and you say, ‘Oh, Nothing,’ and then you go and do it.

It means just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.”

“Oh!” said Pooh.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Poetry Box


One of the great opportunities that CNS has always afforded us as adults is a place where we can make some magic.  This happens at the most simple level when we take a day off from work, or find child care for a younger sibling to make a special day our of parent helping.  Magic.  The gift of time.

Likewise, as a teacher at CNS, I was afforded so many opportunities to make connections and create moments of exploration and wonder.  As Director, these opportunities become the fewer and far between – but still the plum of my work – whether a gnome house, a music garden, green door project, or the bell – all wonderful worthwhile diversions from the daily work of administrative responsibilities; truly the icing on my cake!

Here is the story of the Poetry Boxes:

Late last summer, as I encountered and experienced Block Island for the first time, in the care of Lila and Nora Bailey, I discovered Poetry Boxes.  At the time, there was a major installation of such boxes all around the Island and Nora and Lila took me to discover their favorites.  I was enchanted.  A self-struggling poet myself, I have always been drawn to lyric, and rhyme – and the images and mingling of word and emotion and meaning.  To discover these boxes that were so creatively constructed packaging someone else’s favorite verse, was pure joy and inspiration.

Following that trip, the idea of the CNS Poetry Box Project was born.  Last week, Mark Bailey and I installed five boxes among the grounds of CNS.  Thank you to the Lynch-Bridgeo Family, the Miller Family, the Coakley Family, the Bailey-Black Family, the Cohen-Silverstein Family, and soon to be added, the Strizak-Schertzer Family – for coming along with me on this new adventure and creating a beautiful poetry box for our CNS collection.

If you have time this week – please spend some extra time on the playground discovering the boxes.  A more formal “walk about” will take place on Saturday, October 15th at 10A prior to the CNS Fall Family Hike.  And experience, Magic.


Mindsets & Bravery


Today the teaching staff at Community Nursery School joined together for a day long retreat.  The intention of our time together was to being again – a new year stretching out ahead of us.  Part deep think, part reflection, mixed in with practical dusting off of intentional practice and some much needed purging of the old unused – we gathered and reconnected and got started.

Up first was an introduction to the work of Carol Dweck. Her most recent book:  Mindsets:  The New Psychology of Success, should be required reading for all parents.  As teachers, we used her work to not only reflect on how we praise and interact with children – but also how we ourselves perceive our very own abilities and gifts.

After watching Dweck speak on mindsets, and “not yet…” we then took a mindset inventory on ourselves to help each one of us reflect on our own bias.

This discussion led to the next part reflection – on girls and bravery.  This is vital information for all of us who work with children or who are parents.  Please take the time to watch this Ted Talk –

The rest of our day was spent directly on program enhancement and improvement.  Topics like “environmental print” and “making learning visible” rounded out most of the morning, before we got inspired by the work of Marie Kondo, Spark Joy .  We used this as a platform to reconsider the objects and materials that we have carried with us for the past six years at new CNS.  What do we use?  What inspires us?  What brings joy?

Closing out our session, Heather created opportunities of movement and meditation that allowed each of us to connect with each other nonverbally.  It was the perfect end to a most wonderful beginning.


Gotta go, gotta go!

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In the shadow of yesterday’s tragedy, perhaps one of the best places to be is in a preschool, among the children.  They don’t know hate.  They don’t know mean.  They don’t know cruelty.  They are sheltered as best we can from the reality of our messed up world.  The mindful presence of the here and now grounds all of us in beauty, wonder, and innocence.  Grateful am I to have such a job as this.

In the next few days, we follow the calendar and part ways.  Some for a very long time; some for just a moment.  Forever we will share the time we spent together; the smiles and the tears; the hellos and the goodbyes.  The separations and the reunions.

I held some of these children just days after they were born.  They will not remember me.  But they will remember the kindness;  the warmth of this school.  They will always know that they started in a place where mommy and daddy got to play, too. And I will never forget them.  Or you.