Sometimes birthdays are complicated

Posted on 05/09/201405/08/2014 by kosanford

When we think of our childhood birthday parties, we think of cake, and songs, pin the tail on the donkey and pinatas. When your child is on the Autism spectrum, birthdays, like everything else, are complicated. There have been years when I have not wanted to celebrate Mae’s birthday, not because I don’t love to celebrate her, I adore her. But it made me sad when I spent time decorating the kitchen with balloons and banners so that like the other children on the mornings of their birthdays she can wake up to a party. Except, she doesn’t seem to notice, she comes into the kitchen, past the pink balloons and the streamers, pops up into her chair and awaits breakfast as if it were any other day. Her presents do not entice her; there is no anticipation about what she will like, or excitement that builds throughout the day. The truth is she doesn’t register her birthday or the fuss around it at all.

One year I almost decided not to do anything, I was wiped out. I didn’t feel like decorating and fussing about her birthday when it didn’t seem to matter. When I mentioned this to a friend, she reminded me that birthdays aren’t about milestones or accomplishments. They are celebrations of a life. She was right, and I have never forgotten that advice. Mae’s birthdays are not necessarily about her being 5 or 6 or 7. They are definitely not about pony rides or pottery painting. They are about making a choice every year not to give up.

When I decorate the kitchen for the other kids I do it because I know they will come down in the morning and be thrilled to see their balloons and banners. When I decorate it for Mae I do it for me. I do it because if I don’t it will mean that I have given up. The same way I ask her how her day was when she gets in the car at the end of the day even though I know she won’t answer, I will decorate the kitchen and buy her a birthday dress. I will send treats into school. I will spend time picking out a present for her, because it matters to me that I tried.

We can’t just fight for our kids at school, or with doctors. We can’t just fight the isolation and strangeness of Autism by finding communities that accepts us and our children. My biggest fight is never to decide that because she doesn’t care I shouldn’t either. I care that it’s her birthday because I love her. I will continue to ask questions that go unanswered, and throw little parties that go unappreciated because if I don’t then it means I have conceded, and I refuse to give up on birthdays or my girl.

Family, Marriage, Meditation, Yoga

I might be getting in my own way…

Posted on 05/05/201404/25/2016 by kosanford

As both the wife of an adopted person and an adoptive parent I think about identity a lot. When we adopted Mae there were many families at the embassy that day taking an oath that their child would be protected and safe. It is a hugely emotional moment, one that most families in the room had waited many years for. As I looked around the room I saw young Chinese children in the arms of Amish families, Asians, Italians, single parent, families of all shapes and sizes. Each one of these children would go to a home to its own culture and lessons. Those lessons would in part shape how that child identified themselves. I am Amish, or Christian, oldest or youngest, but ultimately it is all just who brought you home.

The same is true for those of us who weren’t adopted. It is just less obvious. Over time, we identify as a mother or daughter, lawyer, liberal; we assign labels and qualities to ourselves. I am flexible, I am a runner, I am terrible at languages, or I am a musician. Each one of these declaratives serves us somehow. By declaring ourselves something we relieve ourselves of the burden of the unknown.

Quite frequently someone will say to me “I can’t meditate.” They are completely convinced that they are incapable of being still, and of course I don’t think that’s true. But as long as they believe it, it is true. Writing a twitter bio or the bio for this blog felt silly to me because it is a series of declarative statements about who I am and what I believe. But given the constantly changing nature of who we are, the bio feels misleading as soon as it is out of my mouth. It is true that I am a mother, and a daughter, and a friend, and a buddhist, but to the teller at the bank this morning not a single one of those details mattered. I was just the first person in her line on a Thursday. We smiled at each other, exchanged pleasantries and went about our business.

I once happened to be on the beach when a prominent surgeon drowned in Lake Michigan. At the moment of his death it didn’t matter that he was a father, a husband, a gifted doctor. He was dead, and in that moment that became the defining feature of the man.

Our identity is constantly shifting and changing. My parents tease me that every year they would go to my parent conference at school and every year the teacher would address me by the differing version of my name, selected by me for the year: Katie, Kate or Katherine. One year I even tried on “Kitty.” I admire the bravery of children who try out different versions of themselves. Every year they grow, change and look different so why not shift their identity as well?

I am working these days on loosening my grip on my definite ideas of what I am and what I am not. I was chatting with a friend recently about how she felt that being a mother was preventing her from taking her career to the next level. That may be true, or it may be fear of the unknown or fear of failure and motherhood is a convenient excuse that no one can argue with. I am hoping that by letting go of my very fixed ideas about who and what I am and returning more to that childish notion that my identity can shift and change that I will remove obstacles that I have placed in my own way. I will try to imagine that I am not limited by anything, and see how that feels for a while. I will let you know.

Family, Marriage

Things we wish you knew

Posted on 04/30/2014 by kosanford

Please don’t be scared of her, she is just a little girl.

She needs to touch everything because that is how she roots herself in the world.

When she doesn’t look at you when you are speaking, it isn’t because she can’t hear.

It also isn’t because she doesn’t like you.

Telling her she is pretty is not going to make her less Autistic.

It’s ok, I am not sad about Autism anymore and she never was, so you don’t need to make a sad face.

I want you to know that I am grateful every day to be her mother, but that doesn’t mean I am an unusually good person. She is my child, we are in this together, we are learning and trying, growing and changing. I used to plan that someday I would dance at her wedding, now I recognize that those kinds of plans are a gift that makes you feel sad. Now I plan small. I take life in careful bites. I savor the good moments and try and let the bad ones not break my spirit. Autism has taught me that a life is not a series of accomplishments or degrees from fancy schools. Life is about waking up every day and beginning again.

Family, Marriage, Meditation, Yoga

Push, Balance, Steer

Posted on 04/28/201404/28/2014 by kosanford

When my children were learning to ride bikes this is the mantra we would repeat for them. In the videos of their first successful two wheeler rides you can hear them whispering to themselves, “push, balance, steer, push, balance, steer.” It became the magic words that propelled them onto two wheels.

I hear it in my own head when I feel like I am on shaky ground. It has become my own mantra, my own magic formula for reminding myself what I really need.

Push: We need to apply effort in our lives. Some days the effort can be just getting out of bed. It requires effort to sit down and meditate every day, or go to a yoga class or exercise. Even being polite especially to those we love most can be an effort. Sometimes, it is the effort of not listening to our own defeating chatter, or doing something that scares us. If you push too fast or far, you will fall, but if you don’t push at all you won’t ever move forward.

Balance: We all use the word, I am not sure we know what it means. To me balance means mostly follow the rules, but maybe break them a little every day. Balance means sleeping when I am tired, and eating when I am hungry, snuggling when an opportunity presents itself, and taking every chance I get to make sure I am plugging in to my life. Balance means showing up to the people who care about me, including myself. The road underneath me is always changing, balance means not thinking it will all be smooth and flat.

Steer: Being in the moment does not mean that there is no plan for tomorrow. We need to steer ourselves along a path. We don’t meditate to become awesome meditators. We meditate to become better human beings. We shouldn’t do yoga so that we can be at the front of the class in tight pants balancing on our noses. We should do it so that we are connected to our breath and body. We shouldn’t just fill our lives and hearts with people to avoid loneliness. We should fill our lives with relationships that uplift and encourage us. When we are steering ourselves in the right direction anything is possible. When we aren’t we end up on our asses by the side of the road.

Push, balance, steer, push, balance, steer, push, balance, steer….When you feel yourself wobbling, say it a few times, and you will be back on the road in no time…

Family, Marriage

I may be the kind of person who curses in front of toddlers

Posted on 04/22/201404/22/2014 by kosanford

One year after Christmas we went to Michigan with my husband’s family for a few days of rest. Both his brothers were going through painful divorces and I had gone from being the last of the daughters-in-laws to marry into the family, to the only daughter-in-law in a few short years. I wanted very badly to do a good job in this role, on one level because family is important, and the less elegant truth that I love being a hero.

My sons were just over 2 and 3, they were adorable. The younger one in particular looked as if he had fallen off the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Blond curls, chubby little legs and sweet smile. One afternoon, during this winter week, we were all bundled inside, a fire blazing and the gentle quiet that descends on winter houses filled with families. One of my brothers-in-law was on his computer, my father-in-law was snoozing, my husband, Colin, was reading, the kids were puttering around, and my mother-in-law and I were playing Scrabble with Colin’s older brother. At that moment, the door to the screen porch blew open. My two-year-old, Peter was just walking by it, and I asked him to close it. He threw himself against it, and it closed momentarily. Seconds later, it blew back open, and Peter valiantly hurled himself against it to close it again. It closed and he said, “Stupid door!” I responded by saying something to the effect of, “Peter, we don’t say stupid,” and looking at my mother-in-law to make sure she understood I was a perfect mother in every way. Peter, was still looking at his foe, the door, and said “If it opens again, I am going to say Fuck You door……”

This is the moment when everyone started to laugh so hard we had to stand up. Ten minutes later we were still giggling and wiping away tears. The whole thing was so ridiculous, the angelic child saying “fuck you” after his well meaning but sanctimonious mother had corrected him for using the word “stupid.”

This story always makes me laugh, because it is funny. It also makes me laugh at myself. I don’t really use the word “stupid” very often, but I apparently was not afraid to drop the F-bomb now and again. My children have never failed to remind me what is true. When I am striving to make the world believe I am perfect, they will unintentionally remind me I am not — either by cursing in front of my mother-in-law, or some other equally embarrassing disclosure.

The person I lie to most often is myself. I think that’s true for almost all of us. No one wants to think to themselves, “I am the kind of person who regularly curses in front of toddlers….Or I am the kind of person who prefers to watch the Real Housewives of something instead of the news….” This was so true in my case we had to cancel the cable, to save me from my from glassy eyed, slack jawed 11 pm self.

The truth is, we are all flawed, we all want to be the hero, curse less, exercise more, improve on what is there. To improve on anything you have to be honest about it. If you are going to be honest with yourself, do it with humor, do it with kindness. Every time I find myself pretending to be something I am not, I picture a defiant toddler saying ”fuck you door” and I am reminded that our true nature will always make itself known. So try and greet yourself with a smile and a wink…..and hope you mother-in-law does the same.

Family, Marriage, Yoga

Youth, wisdom and the state of my boobs

Posted on 04/20/201404/25/2014 by kosanford

When I wake up in the morning after a healthy dinner and seven hours of sleep, I look the same way I did after a two day bender in my twenties. I know that the lines around my mouth are from smiling and the ones around my eyes are from squinting on many a beach day. The state of my boobs is upsetting, but a result of nursing my kids. The roundness of my stomach, a tribute to many a good dinner. They are all signs of an instrument in use.

The shiny hair and sparkly eyes of youth are like a road with no line down the middle, or potholes. Really great for learning to ride a two wheeler, but hard to maintain. The drugstore is filled with products that are designed to hold off aging. Or, some semblance of it. If you really spend your days in search of youth, and all the beginnings that come with it, would you even recognize your actual youthful self? Would you recognize that real youth is about possibility and not perky boobs? Real youth is about not having met your children yet, or certain kinds of heartbreak. It’s about a future that holds more beginnings than endings.

Youth for me was also about insecurity and the anxiety of whether or not I was fit for adulthood. Each wrinkle and stretch mark has liberated me from that. I never stop trying to be a better version of myself, a better wife, mother, daughter and friend.

“Better” no longer means cute though, it means really listening when people talk. It means letting the enormity of life’s successes and failures sink in. It means celebrating with gusto and enthusiasm when there is cause and rolling up my sleeves and getting to work when I have to. It means not apologizing just so someone will absolve me of responsibility, but always apologizing when I think I am wrong. It means stepping back and looking at how far I have come, and then appreciating my chaotic and beautiful present.

Youth is about possibility, but maturity is about confidence and wisdom. Neither is really marked by age. We all feel youthful after we surprise ourselves; there is no more beautiful expression on the face of a yoga student than when she has come down from her first handstand in twenty years. I hear the wisdom in the voice of my ten year old when he talks about living with a special needs sibling. Neither youth or maturity are available commercially, they are the product of our experiences and our willingness to see them. Or even better, celebrate them.

Family, Food, Meditation

Can’t I always lie in the sun in Paris?

Posted on 04/19/201405/12/2014 by kosanford

It is almost always the simple things that matter most. Recently, we took our children on a trip where they were able to see and experience some of the greatest art and architecture in the world. We had a wonderful time, but everyone agreed that one of our most fun afternoons was spent in a park while we lay in the sun and the boys shot cans with a small homemade bow and arrow. We could have been anywhere, we happened to be in France. Sometimes, I think we lose sight of the fact that our situation is as much shaped by our attitude as by circumstance.

Obviously, it is easier to have a good attitude lying in the grass, under a warm sun with a full belly than it is doing deep knee bends on an airplane trying to calm a tantrumming child and ignore the stares of other passengers. Neither experience lasts forever, even when you wish it would or it feels like it might. One of the most valuable lessons I have learned from having a special needs child is to let things go, both good and bad. When our children were babies and sleep was an enormous issue, I remember thinking there was a perfect sleep recipe. The pajamas they had worn for their first long good sleep, became the “magic pajamas” or the sheets on the bed, or the meal I had, had before nursing. Certainly, you can do things that support good sleep for your baby, routine being one of them. But, every parent soon figures out that some nights they will sleep even with a marching band going through their bedrooms and other nights they won’t no matter what.

It is the same with everything in life, you can plan elaborate and exciting adventures for your family, and they can be great. Or you can all snuggle up onto the same couch and watch Fetch and sometimes that is better and was a happy accident. Being able to maintain equanimity in the face of anything, is what allows us to truly be at ease. We cannot control the outcome of any situation especially when children are involved. What we can control is our response. Some days will be awful, you will receive bad news, your bank account will be empty, loved ones will be in pain, other days you will find yourself lying in the sun in Paris. Life is like that. I am trying to greet both the good and bad with the same joyful attitude, the way one would meet an old friend. Inconvenience, sadness, joy, and ease, all familiar, all fleeting, all guests at the same table.

Family

Every day I make a promise

Posted on 04/14/201404/14/2014 by kosanford

Every day I wake up and make a promise to a woman who I have never met who lives on the other side of the world. She is my daughter’s birth mother. When my daughter was six weeks old she wrapped her up carefully, put her in a basket with a note and a pendant and brought her to the pediatric ward of a hospital outside Beijing. I think about how she must have felt that day as she rode up to the 6th floor of the hospital, knowing that on the way down she would be alone. I wonder if when she found a safe spot and put the basket down if Mae was asleep or awake. I wonder if as she rode down in the elevator if she ever thought about changing her mind and taking her baby/my baby back home with her.

The only thing I do know is that she wanted a better life for her daughter than she could provide. So, every day I wake up and promise to do my best. I promise her that I will never take her decision for granted. I promise her that because she did her part, I will do mine. I promise her to love my daughter for both of us. When I kiss Mae goodnight, I kiss her twice, once from me and once from the woman on the other side of the world. When she belly laughs as she jumps on the trampoline with her brothers I hope that her other mother hears it in her dreams. When she cries, I comfort her knowing that there is a woman on the other side of the world who is depending on me.

Mae is Apraxic, a disorder that puts her on the Autism spectrum and greatly limits her speech, for now. She has been my child for almost 5 years and we have not yet had a conversation, let alone touched on the issues of her adoption. This makes it even more important for me to hold her other mother in my heart. There are days when having a special needs child is unbelievably hard, there are days when I want to lie in bed and pull the covers over my head. But I can’t because I think about that elevator trip, and what that other mother gave up.

My dreams of my daughter started long before I met her. Just like with my other children as she grows they have changed. I once dreamt that I would drive her to dance lessons, and host giggly sleepovers. Now, I dream of hearing her say Mom. It makes me happy to know that somewhere on the other side of the world is a woman whose dreams for her haven’t changed. In her mind, Mae’s life knows no limits. Every day, I promise her to do my part, every day I promise her that I will love that little girl for both of us, that I will never forget that she went down in that elevator alone.

Food, Uncategorized

Kale and the Emperor With No Clothes

Posted on 04/10/201404/10/2014 by kosanford

Do you remember the story of the Emperor with No Clothes?

The Emperor walked around naked and everyone admired his clothing because no one was courageous enough to point out that he was in fact naked… Finally, a child speaks up during a parade and the truth sets everyone free. I used to feel like Kale was the vegetable equivalent of the naked emperor. Everyone loved it, articles appeared every day extolling its benefits. A friend returned from vacation in Turks and Caicos and the headline about her trip was the incredible kale salad at the hotel. Clearly, I was missing something. I tried repeatedly to develop a love for this much discussed wonder green, but I hated it. I was just about to decide that everyone I knew was powerless in the face of kale propaganda, when something amazing happened.

For Christmas this year I gave my husband tickets to see Neil Young at Carnegie Hall. To make it feel like a real date, we went to dinner at Candle Cafe, an amazing Vegan restaurant in Manhattan. We ordered the kale salad, this was my Hail Mary. If Candle Cafe could not make kale taste good, then as far as I was concerned, I would be happy with spinach. The salad was amazing as was everything else we had that evening. I may have even begun the story about that night to a friend with news of the incredible kale salad…(sorry Neil)

A few nights later I decided to try and make it myself. I ordered the Candle Cafe cookbook and used their recipe as a guide but I modified it a bit. I have included my version below, but highly recommend purchasing their cook book.

Kale Salad (inspired by Candle Cafe)

1 cup Buckwheat (we like the Kasha brand)

4 tsp olive oil

2 large japanese yams (these look like purple sweet potatoes)

½ lb sugar snap peas

1 lb kale

2 avocados peeled, pitted, sliced

salt and pepper to taste

Chive Vinaigrette (this is the Candle Cafe recipe almost exactly, and I would drink it if I could)

½ cup plus 1 Tbsp Grapeseed oil

½ cup chopped shallots

2 cloves garlic

¼ white wine vinegar (or rice vinegar)

½ cup warm water

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp pepper

Garnish:
1 cup pomegranate seeds
1 cup sunflower seeds

The key with kale is to remove the stems, and spines so it is just the leaf. Then massage olive oil into the leaves. They don’t need to swim in it, but the olive oil will soften the leaves and remove the bitterness. Bake the yams at 350 for about 75 minutes, this can be done ahead of time. Buckwheat takes about 15 minutes to cook, but again this can be prepared the day before. Steam the snap peas, and place them aside. After you have massaged the olive oil into the kale, very briefly throw the kale into a large pan until the leaves wilt slightly and turn a very dark green. Put the kale, the sliced avocado, yams, snap peas and buckwheat into a large bowl.

For the dressing saute the shallots in one Tbsp of grapeseed oil, add the garlic until they are both soft. I use the hand mixer to make this, but you could use a blender. Transfer the sauteed ingredients to either the blender or bowl for hand mixing and add the other ingredients. Pour the dressing on the salad, add sunflower and pomegranate seeds for garnish.

Family, Meditation, Yoga

I am my goal weight and still get parking tickets

Posted on 04/09/201404/09/2014 by kosanford

I am my goal weight and still get parking tickets
*Being your goal anything does not prevent you from getting parking tickets or anything else

You will never have more time after you “just get through this week”
*I have gone months when I say this every week

You aren’t going to yoga class because you don’t have time
*You have time, you are using it for other things

Those expensive pants you bought on sale, will still be too small next year
*No matter how discounted something is, if it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit. If you don’t wear them they cost too much no matter what

Gluten-free, organic, soy-free or dairy-free are not synonyms for good for you
*A bag of potato chips can be all these things, but if you eat the whole bag, you will probably regret it

There is no reason you cannot meditate
*It is OK not to want to, but don’t pretend you can’t

That person’s life is easier than mine because.
*This is never true, every single one of us experiences challenges, you just don’t know about theirs

Every day, I hear myself and the people around me hinging happiness on the future or creating a reason to not engage the present. If you want to develop a meditation practice, then sit down. If you want to have yoga in your life, then go to class. If you want to be happy, you have to understand what that means when you say it.

Fundamentally happiness is being loving and realistic about what you need and how you spend your time. You have to look at your habits and patterns with generosity, kindness and most importantly honesty.

There is no future happiness, it is a choice for right now, and you are the only one who can make that choice.

Katherine Osnos Sanford