chro-NICK-les

February 3, 2021

Ground Hog Day

Today is February 2^ndand we have been doing this pandemic thing for almost 11 months. It feels like the same thing. Every. Single. Day. In the spirit of Bill Murray’s epic movie Ground Hog Day, here are ten reasons how I relate to the feeling of being caught in a time loop for the past godforsaken eleven months.

I load and unload the dishwasher twice daily because three meals, and 45 snacks a day, has created an endless supply of dirty dishes that I pluck from the kitchen counter, the couch, the children’s’ desks, under their beds and yes, in their bathroom!

I can expect to be interrupted at 9:30 am, 11:30 am and 1:05 pm every week day because these times indicate Leah’s morning break, lunch and the end of school, all of which must coincide with a snack!

Daily virtual meetings are interrupted by a barking dog, the amazon delivery person or zoom bombed by one of my children demanding yet another freaking snack!

Opening up my Kroger App and adding the buy again list to the click list cart because I am too dang tired and unmotivated to try something new and lord forbid I do not have the right snacks in the pantry!

Opening my Chick-fil-a app for the third time in a week and choosing the buy again option for the same combo meals we had two days ago.

Starting a puzzle for the third time, because I refuse to spend another $25 on a nice puzzle (apparently I have become a puzzle snob) and remembering which section was the most challenging so I can tackle it faster this time around.

Every evening, I tune into Wheel of Fortune at 7:00 pm, squinting at the TV screen, hyper focused with my nose scrunched up in concentration while my family members solve the puzzle 3 letters in and I huff and puff that they never give me a chance to guess correctly and then fuss at my husband because he needs to apply to be on that show so he can win enough money for us to take a nice family vacation once this stupid pandemic is over!

As I scroll down my Netflix home page, I stop at the section titled watch again because either I do not remember watching something or there are no new releases that spark my interest because I have literally watched all of the things…twice.

When I turn on my computer, at the beginning of the work day, I have to double check the calendar several times to ensure I know what day it is because even though it’s Tuesday it feels like Monday, because I forgot what I did yesterday and are you sure it’s not Monday? It feels like Monday!

And last but very far from least, the daily emails, texts and phone calls from Henrico County public schools about the final decision that was made about plans to return to in person school that indicate there is no specific date to return to in person school because another meeting to make a final decision about the return to in person school will be occurring on Thursday, wait maybe the meeting is on Wednesday, no it’s definitely Thursday but does it even matter if the meeting is on Wednesday or Thursday because we are being asked to practice patience until yet another final decision can be made about when the children can return to in person school!

In the wise words of Bill Murray’s character, Phil, in Ground Hog Day.

“OK, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ‘cause it’s cold out there. It’s cold out there EVERY DAY.”

June 10, 2020June 10, 2020

Teachable Moments

Since March, I have had plenty of time to teach my kids the importance of social distancing and how everyone has a responsibility to take precautions to protect those of us who are the most vulnerable. They get it. My kids have proven to be much more resilient than I expected and I am super proud of them.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had several conversations with my kids about what has been happening specific to the racial injustice in our country. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed and struggled with just how much information I needed to share with them. I did not want to frighten Leah or exasperate Thomas’s anxiety.

One evening over dinner, Leah mentioned that she had heard about a bad word that is sometimes used to describe black people. She did not know what the word was and was curious about it. Initially, Mark and I struggled with how to respond because neither of us wanted to even say that nasty word. I quickly realized this was one of those teachable moments that cannot be planned and I needed to take full advantage of the opportunity. I told my daughter that she would only hear me say this awful word ONCE because she needs to know what it is in order to understand that she should never use the word. I told her that if she ever hears someone use that word to tell a trusted adult. Initially, her eyes widened with dismay as I gave her a brief age appropriate history of the word and why others continue to use it humiliate and degrade blacks. Eventually her wide eyes narrowed into anger and frustration at how some people still choose to use that word. It was an uncomfortable but necessary conversation.

Yesterday, Leah pulled out her art supplies and found a couple of small canvases Mark had recently purchased for at home art projects. On one canvas she made a colorful handprint with the message “We can do this”. When I asked her about the painting she told me that she wanted to encourage everyone as we continue to social distance. On a second canvas she painted a flower with six petals. She brought it to me and said that she intended to write one word on each petal.

She said, “On these three petals I am going to write Black Lives Matter and in the other three I am going to write All Lives Matter.”

I paused, careful to not overreact. Here was another one of those teachable moments.

I explained to Leah the difference in the two statements and how careful we all must be with the words we choose. I realized in that moment that I cannot shield her from everything. She will hear words and phrases used by others and she may not fully understand the meaning and intention behind some of those words. I encouraged her to choose her words more carefully so she decided on Black. Lives. Matter. Peace. Love. Hope.

After she finished her artwork I took the opportunity to talk about the protests that have been occurring in Richmond over the past couple of weeks. We talked about what has happened to the monuments on Monument Avenue and why people are feeling angry and sad. I told her that I thought it would be a good idea for us to drive to Monument Avenue so that we could see with our own eyes what has been happening.

My nine year old peered up at me with wide eyes and said, “Mom, what if someone shoots us?”

And this was the exact moment when I realized that I had not done my job as a parent. I had failed to take full advantage of the teachable moment that has been front and center for weeks now.

This morning, I packed up some bottles of water, hustled the kids out of the house and headed downtown to the Robert E. Lee Monument. While we drove to downtown Richmond, I turned down the radio and talked to my kids about the daily protests, the rioting, the looting, the racial injustice and prepared them for what they would see. They were curious, Thomas interjecting several times to answer some of Leah’s questions. He was thoughtful as he explained, in his own terms, to his baby sister why people are so angry and sad. I warned them about the words that they would see spray painted on the monuments. I warned them about the phrases they would see and hear. I gave space for them to share their thoughts and listened without judgement. As we approached Monument Avenue Thomas pointed out the businesses that had boarded up their doors and windows. I took the time to explain why many of the downtown businesses were taking precautions.

We found a parking space about a block away from the Robert E. Lee monument. We parked, grabbed our water bottles and headed south across Broad Street. I could see a small crowd gathered around the base of the monument. I squinted into the sun and noticed the graffiti and spray painted symbols from a block away. I took a deep breath and pressed on.

“Wow, mom look at all the colors. It’s like a rainbow” Leah said as she slipped her hand in mine and started to bounce with excitement. I smiled at her innocent observation, knowing that as we approached the monument, her mood would likely become more somber.

Thomas, my almost 15 year old, was stoic and quiet as he trailed behind, deep in his thoughts. I knew better than to invade his space as he began to process what he was about to experience.

As we approached the monument I was struck by the sheer size. I had never really noticed just how huge the Robert E Lee monument is. The three of us stepped onto the grass surrounding the monument, hesitant to move too quickly as we took everything in for the first time. There was so much to process. The words, the phrases, the pictures, the symbols, the sounds and the faces of recent victims. I allowed my children to have several minutes to let it all sink in. Leah asked a few questions while Thomas remained silent, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. At one point, I stepped back and took a picture of the two of them, standing side by side, with earnest attention as they observed history in the making.

We wandered over to a tent where a local group was giving away free gatorade and snacks. Leah was thirsty so I offered a cash donation to the volunteers as one lady offered us an ice cold Gatorade. I struck up a conversation with a man named Eddie. He was friendly and insightful and introduced himself to both of my children. He said that he has been at the monument almost every day since the protests began because he feels it is important to have honest and open conversations with people. He was warm and inviting and I could have listened to him all day. Even Leah, who is typically shy around unfamiliar adults, asked him some questions. He watched as my children took advantage of the poster board and markers his group had provided. Eddie encouraged Thomas and Leah to create a message to be displayed on the monument. At one point, Leah made a comment to Eddie that initially made me squirm and I willed myself to stay silent.

“I like your green eyeshadow and your lipstick.” Leah said as she lowered her chin and blushed a little, unsure whether or not Eddie would appreciate her compliment.

Eddie, who was in full drag makeup and who just so happens to be gay, didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, thank you Honey, and I like your blue top.” He said with a wink and Leah smiled from ear to ear.

I excused myself so that I could accompany the kids over to the monument to display their posters. As we walked hand in hand I asked Leah if she had any questions about Eddie and why he was wearing makeup.

“No. Sometimes boys wear makeup and sometimes girls wear boy’s clothes but, I don’t care. He was really nice.”

And my heart swooned! I let the moment sink in and I pulled out my camera to film my children as they carefully chose where to display their posters on the monument. Leah noticed a display of flowers, Virginia peanuts, apples and other produce. Along with the display was a sign that Leah chose to read aloud.

Please take one to offer as a sign of solidarity.

Leah picked out a pretty purple hydrangea and decided that she wanted to place it in front of one of the many picture memorials of blacks whose lives were lost too soon. I walked behind her as she scanned each picture until she stopped in front of one in particular. Tears rolled down my cheek as I watched my daughter lay the flower in front of the memorial of a young black girl, not much younger than my daughter when she was killed.

I write this blog post with a range of emotions. I am sad and angry that our country still has so much work to do regarding racial injustice. I am listening and learning and trying to identify how I can contribute. I am also grateful, as a mother, to have had so many teachable moments over the past three months. Today my children had a history lesson on how things used to be, a social studies lesson on how things still are and a philosophy lesson on where we need to be. I am truly humbled by today’s experience and I stand with my black friends, neighbors and co-workers. Black Lives Matter!

Below are a couple of pictures from our experience and a picture of Leah’s artwork.

April 15, 2020

Smoke, Mirrors and Juggling Acts

My life is a juggling act these days. I mean, it’s always been a juggling act but during this pandemic, life has thrown a hell of a lot more balls for me to juggle. I spend my days tossing those balls in the air and then running around like a chicken with her head cut off to try and catch those stupid balls before they fall to the ground.

Today was a the first day our school district launched new curriculum for online learning. Leah had been looking forward to a morning Zoom meeting with her teacher and classmates. She chose to wear her favorite shirt, a pretty blue tank top with a ruffle across the neckline and asked me to brush her hair into pigtails. She was super excited about “seeing” her friends and Mrs. Davis, her beloved 3rd grade teacher. I was happy for her too because she has been so sad and lonely the past few weeks. I helped her log on at 9:00 am, gave her a quick tutorial on how to use the chat box and the mute features. She noticed that a few of the kids had added fun virtual backgrounds and she asked me to help her pick something fun. I showed her how to make a choice and she picked an outer space backdrop that I thought looked very cool. I watched as she waved to her peers, giggled at their silly antics and bounced in her chair with anticipation. The joy on her face was a beautiful thing for this stressed out Mommy and I found myself bouncing in my own chair as I “pretended” to work so that she could focus on her classwork.

Leah’s teacher did an amazing job navigating the virtual classroom and gave clear concise directions and the kids responded accordingly. After about fifteen minutes of icebreakers and fun brainteasers, the agenda began to shift a bit to the new schoolwork that would begin today. And that is when I felt it, a palpable shift in my baby girls emotions. I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head as I processed what I saw happening in front of me. It was subtle at first as she began to pull on her pigtails while shifting in her seat and taking a sip of water from the glass I had placed in front of her. I watched as the water trickled down her chin and onto her blouse because the sip of water was too big. When she noticed that she had dripped water onto her blouse, she turned and looked at me with a look of panic and embarrassment on her face and she motioned for me to come over.

“What’s up baby?” I whispered while she made sure she was muted on the Zoom.

She reached for my hand and asked me to stay by her side. She motioned for me to make sure I was off camera because she was afraid that her classmates would see and she was embarrassed to be feeling so vulnerable in front of her peers. I held my daughter’s hand for the next 15 minutes and watched as the joy that had been on her face moments before quickly progressed through a roller coaster of emotions as she began to experience insecurity, hesitance, confusion, trepidation, irritation and ultimately exasperation.

As the Zoom wrapped up and everyone signed off, she turned to me and crossed her arms across her chest in an act of defiance. My daughter is like me in that when she is scared or sad she tends to hide it with anger or defiance.

“I can’t do it, Mom.” Leah said as she fought back tears, collapsing on my bed in frustration.

“What do you mean, Honey?” I asked.

“It’s too hard and I don’t know how.” she said burying her face in the pillow.

I sat down next to her, rubbed her back and gently explained that she is just a little out of practice and I offered to help her with her daily assignments. I reminded her that I have a job that allows me to work from home so that I can help with school work from now until the end of the school year.

She looked up at me, with that freckled face, on the verge of tweendome expression, rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah right.”

Leah saw right through my bullcrap. She knows the gig is up. My nine year old sees how overwhelmed I have been and that I have been dropping all of the balls (well, most of them) in my mom juggling act, including homeschooling. It’s all been a bunch of smoke and mirrors the past few weeks as I try to juggle work and home. I’m watching my children struggle and I can’t do anything about it. I am all out of magic tricks because I’m struggling too and I don’t know when it will end or at least get a little better.

I know, I know, I know! Things could be a lot worse. Mark and I still have jobs when so many others have been laid off or furloughed. We live in a nice home and our children attend top notch schools that have the technology to provide online instruction. We are all healthy with no pre-existing conditions that put us in a high risk category if we to contract COVID 19. When I think about how fortunate we are, I start to feel guilty, ashamed and selfish. And when I feel guilty, ashamed and selfish I start to feel bad about myself and when I feel bad about myself, I lose motivation and get easily distracted and irritable and I drop the balls….all of the balls.

As the day progressed, she started to feel better and her dad helped her understand the timeline of assignments so that she doesn’t get overwhelmed. This evening she and I were walking through the neighborhood hand in hand chatting about our day. At one point I sighed heavily and she noticed.

Nothing gets by my observant and perceptive daughter so she asked, “You okay, Mom?”

“Sure baby, it’s just been a tough day.” as I squeezed and patted her hand.

“Why was it so hard? Was it your job?” she asked peering up at me behind a furrowed brow.

“Honey, I have been worried about you today.” I said as I gently tugged at her pigtails and explained that it’s my job as her mom to keep her healthy, happy and safe. I explained to her that I have a job that also has responsibilities. We talked about how confusing it probably has been for her when I have to work even though I am at home with her all day. She nodded as she processed what I said and quickly changed the subject to what she wanted for dinner.

After dinner I wondered up to my bedroom and sat down at my computer to type this post because writing is cathartic for me. As Leah played with her barbies in the bathtub, I decided to wonder in and touch base one more time just to see how she was feeling. I told her that I have always liked stories because sometimes they help me to understand my feelings. My daughter enjoys analogy so I explained how moms sometimes feel like they are jugglers, trying to keep too many balls in the air at one time and sometimes those balls drop. She nodded as she began to process.

“But you know what is cool about some of those balls?” I asked. “Some of them bounce and I can easily catch them after a bounce and toss them in the air again.”

“I get it.” She declared.

I hope she does get it. I hope she understands that I am trying really hard and sometimes I feel like she did this morning and I think to myself, I can’t do this. It’s too hard and I don’t know how. The reality is that life, right now, feels like smoke and mirrors to me most days. I’m going through the day to day tasks of work, cleaning, cooking, parenting, homeschooling and trying to convince my kids that I am fine. At the end of the day I will drop a few balls but at least, thank god, most of them will bounce. Until then, I’ll just try to enjoy the Circus.

Below is a picture of Leah at the beginning of her Zoom class when she was all smiles. The second picture is me holding her hand to get her through to the end. I will always hold her hand through the tough times!

April 3, 2020April 3, 2020

“When words fail, music speaks” Shakespeare

The Brandenburger family just finished our third week of social distancing, telework and homeschool. I feel like I have been on a roller coaster of emotions and I’ve had a hard time articulating my thoughts. Words, especially written words, come easily to me when it comes to expressing how I am feeling. For the past three weeks, I’ve been unable to find the right words until today.

As I finished up my work week this morning, I was listening to one of my favorite music stations on Pandora. This particular music station is comprised of artists from the late 80s and early 90s including punk rock, alternative rock and rap. I don’t know who was in charge at Pandora today but the algorithm was spot on! I found myself bobbing my head, playing air drums and dancing in my chair as song after song sparked memories from a simpler time in my life. As I listened to the music, the lyrics began to speak to me and I started to identify words that expressed how I have been feeling. Maybe the next time you need a little inspiration or pep talk the following song lyrics will speak to you like they did to me today.

When you are feeling like a failure and want to give up. “Try again tomorrow I’m gonna kick tomorrow” Jane Says by Jane’s Addiction

When the kids are driving you crazy. “Well I think I’m losing my mind, this time, this time I’m losing my mind, that’s right” So What’cha Want by Beastie Boys

When you are longing to see your friends and family again. “I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they’re real” Pictures of You by the Cure

When you feel sad. “Said there ain’t no use in crying ’cause it will only, only drive you mad” Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin

When you feel panicky and want to run away from everything but you can’t because well….coronavirus. “Escape is never the safest path” Dissident by Pearl Jam

When your kids don’t understand that you are trying to work at home, cook three meals a day, keep up with laundry, homeschool etc. and you hope that one day they will appreciate all of the sacrifices and they FINALLY give you credit for literally keeping them alive every single day. “What I’ve got you’ve got to give it to your mama, what I’ve got you’ve got to give it to your pappa.” Give it Away by Red Hot Chili Peppers

When you realize how much you really like your coworkers and you begin to appreciate the fact that it’s not just you that is still in their pajamas with unbrushed hair and no makeup while you participate in a Zoom meeting. “Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be” Come as You Are by Nirvana

When you are scared about the future and how life as we know it is changed forever. “Honey, I know, I know, I know times are changing. It’s time we all reach out for something new, that means you too.” Purple Rain by Prince

When you begin to doubt you will make it another two months or longer. “Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?” Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

When you need a reminder that social distancing is for the greater good. “You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time. There’s nothing you and I won’t do.” I Melt with You by Modern English

When you are feeling judged by others after you put your feelings out there on social media. “Now who do you think you are, puttin’ your cheap two cents in? Don’t you got nothin’ to do than worry ’bout my friends? Check it!” None of Your Business by Salt-n-Pepa

When you STILL can’t find hand sanitizer and toilet paper in the grocery store and the cashier asks if you found everything you need. “But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” I still haven’t found what I’m looking for by U2

When you day dream about what it will be like to be around people (other than your immediate family) again. “I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around!” Jump Around by House of Pain

And when you think about how this pandemic is reshaping our world and how we interact with one another, you can listen to this classic and know that we will get through this together. “It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine It’s in the End of the World by REM

I miss all of you!!

March 16, 2020March 16, 2020

Distance Learning 2020

The past week has been a difficult and scary time for so many. Unprecedented times call for unprecedented changes. When our school district announced that schools would be closed for two weeks I felt torn between relief and dread. Relief that social distancing would help to flatten the curve of this virus and dread as I tried to wrap my head around how I might find a balance between work and home.

I am fortunate enough to have a job where telework is possible. We are also fortunate to have a school district that already relies on technology and online resources for instruction so Distance Learning is quite feasible. Today marked the first day of Distance Learning for the Brandenburger kids and this is what I learned.

When I feel like everything is out of my control, finding something I can control is cathartic. I made a daily schedule that I intend to stick to so that my kids have structure to their days. This is not a vacation and they need to understand that their father and I still expect them to learn and complete chores while we stick close to home over the next two weeks. They need a sense of normalcy to their day because nothing about social distancing seems very normal to us right now.

A sense of humor can go a long way. I plan to commit to beginning school work at 10:00 am Monday through Friday. This morning, I found a sound clip on YouTube of a school bell. When the microwave clock showed 10:00 am, I promptly pressed play on the YouTube video and rang the bell announcing that “School is in session.” You can guess which one of my children was the LEAST enthusiastic about school with mom (hint, it was the big one who is very sarcastic and hormonal at the moment).

Each child will need support in a different way. Thomas prefers to work alone these days. He is used to the online site utilized by his teachers to assign work. When I offered to help, his eye roll and long dramatic sigh told me to back off and that is exactly what I did. Leah, on the other hand, was all about having her mom help with school work. We worked on a google slide presentation and she asked me to help her take pictures to use in the assignment. Leah is very extroverted and literally thinks out loud, ALL DAY LONG! There is not much that she keeps to herself these days. My aspirations of being able to work while she completed school work were shot all to hell because she literally talked me through every single step of her school work. She needed reassurance that the picture she chose was the perfect one. She asked me to look at the colors she chose for the background of each slide. She asked me to check her spelling and sentence structure for mistakes. Oddly enough, when her brother offered to help she shot him a nasty glare that made Thomas throw his hands in the air and say, “Fine I was just trying to help.” Leah will need a lot of support from us over the next two weeks. She really misses her classmates and her teacher and I will do my best to fill that void but, I swear if I hear “Hey mom” one more time today……

They need to be separated while working. Because Thomas works independently, he found it a bit distracting to have his sister sitting at the same table while she talked through EVERY SINGLE aspect of her assignment. Starting tomorrow, Thomas will be at the kitchen table and Leah will be with me in the office.

I need to be kind to myself. Although I am very comfortable teaching others and do it fairly often, I am not very patient when teaching my own children. I found myself having to take lots of deep breaths and walk away a couple of times to regroup. I felt guilty for wanting to snap back at Thomas when his snarky teenager comments crossed a line. I felt irritated that Leah needed me by her side nearly the entire time she worked on her assignment. Bottom line, it was overwhelming. This whole damn virus thing is overwhelming and I have to let myself feel that way every once in a while. It’s important to acknowledge the fear and anger and move past it. I have a choice to make this experience memorable in a good way or memorable in a bad way. I am not perfect and I will make mistakes but I need to forgive myself and move on.

Teachers are worth way more than they are paid. DUH, no explanation needed.

February 17, 2020February 17, 2020

What’s in a Name?

I often tell the story of how my son’s name came to be. From an early age, Mark always knew that he wanted a son named Thomas. It turns out, I was fond of the name as well. Tommie is a name on my mother’s side and coincidently, we were married in the University of Virginia Chapel, designed and built by Thomas Jefferson. So, when we found out in 2005 that we were having a boy, the name Thomas was a no brainer. Finding a middle name would be more of a challenge.

Let me backup a few years, before 2005, when we were struggling to start a family. For several years, Mark and I wrestled with fertility issues, spending an enormous amount of time, energy, emotional resources and money to have a child. Long story short, we were one of the lucky ones to get pregnant with a fresh cycle of In Vitro Fertilization (IVF). At 8 weeks we were informed that I was pregnant with twins and were over the moon. We had fought for so long to start a family and were going to have two babies! It’s a two for one deal, we told ourselves.

Every day that I threw up from morning sickness I chalked it up to a healthy pregnancy and could not wait until my next ultrasound to see my little peanuts. Unfortunately, at 13 weeks, we received the devastating news that one of the babies did not make it. What I experienced is called vanishing twin syndrome and is fairly common. It was a complete juxtaposition to look at one half of the ultrasound screen and see a healthy baby while the other half of the screen showed an empty sac, devoid of the life that had been there only weeks before. A second baby was not to be, and I was devastated and ecstatic at the same time.

As time passed, we grew more and more excited about the healthy baby boy growing bigger every day. Thomas was so active in my tummy, flipping from side to side and kicking my bladder. I would wake up at night, my belly jumping from the hiccups my baby boy would inevitably get, like clockwork, at 2:00 am every single night during the last month of my pregnancy.

When I was about 38 weeks pregnant we had not yet decided on a middle name for Thomas. We were torn on several options and could not make up our minds. One evening, Mark suggested that we consider a variation of my maiden name, which is Hardison.

“Why don’t we call him Thomas Hardy?” he said.

I loved the way the name sounded and it met our criteria. No more than two syllables, easy to spell and fairly simple. Let’s face it, with a name like Brandenburger, the kid needed a simple first and middle name.

After considering the name further, I decided to do a little research before making a final decision because what if we chose a name for our son and found out later that he shared that same name with a serial killer!? A quick internet search disclosed that Thomas Hardy was an english novelist and poet so we both breathed a sigh of relief. A novelist and poet, yeah, I can live with that. The name was really starting to grow on me. I grabbed the baby name book that someone had given me as a hand me down. Curious, I thumbed through the book to see more about the meaning and history behind our son’s first and middle name.

I quickly found the chapter for the letter T and ran my finger down the page until I saw Thomas. My eyes scanned the description.

Thomas: The Irish form of Thomas, a biblical name meaning “twin”.

Well, isn’t that just perfect? I hurried downstairs to show Mark my discovery and we both smiled acknowledging that our son’s first name was absolutely perfect and would honor the baby that we lost.

Without further hesitation, I quickly found the chapter for the letter H, ran my finger down the page until I saw Hardy. My eyes scanned the description.

Hardy: A name of German heritage, meaning “bold, brave”.

And that is when the floodgates opened and the tears rolled down my cheeks. He was the brave twin that had persevered and powered through to make me a mom. Thomas Hardy was the perfect name and I was absolutely smitten.

Thomas loves to hear the story of how his name came to be and I think he’s pretty proud of how representative it is of who he is as a person. He is aware that he was a twin and he knows how hard his parents fought to bring him and his sister (six years later and another round of IVF) into this world.

When I reflect back on just how challenging it was to bring this boy of ours into the world, I am reminded of how hard he has had to fight to fit in, find happiness and be included. I can’t help but see the parallels with Thomas’s most recent passion, wrestling in high school.

Wrestling is one of the oldest forms of combat. It’s origins go back 15,000 years over many different cultures such as the ancient olympic games and Pharaonic Egypt. Early British settlers in America found wrestling popular among Native Americans. It is not a sport I have ever followed or paid much attention to until my son showed interested several months ago.

When Thomas entered high school, a good friend told us about the wrestling team at Godwin High School and encouraged Thomas to consider joining. Despite having no experience and knowing he would have a lot to learn, we assumed he would join the junior varsity team. So, we bought all of the necessary gear, supported him through practices and watched in awe as our son participated in one of the most transformative experiences of his 14 and a half years on this earth.

It turns out the varsity team did not have any wrestlers in Thomas’s weight class, so he was frequently pulled into varsity matches. Being the realistic parents we are, we anticipated hazing or teasing from the older boys and I worried how Thomas would take the criticism from his peers. To my surprise, there was none of that. The older boys took the younger boys under their wing, demonstrating moves and encouraging them to challenge themselves. It was an amazing experience.

His coach recently told Mark that our son was very “coachable” which is really all we expected of our boy. Being coachable is more about attitude than athleticism. It’s not easy to hear criticism even if it’s constructive. Our boy has certainly had his share of criticism over the years and I was struck by how much he respected his wrestling coaches, leaning in, making good eye contact, asking questions for clarification, inquiring how he can do better next time. I watched him celebrate along with his teammates when the other boys pinned their opponents. I saw him walk over and give a reassuring pat on the back of a teammate who had just lost a match. The tournaments were typically long weekend days and because of his weight class, he often finished wrestling earlier than the older, larger boys. Instead of leaving early, he chose to stay until the end, watching from the sidelines, his brow creased as he studied the moves and strategies of the older boys. In the evenings and weekends he would come home and watch youtube videos of college wrestling teams. Each night after a two hour practice I expected Thomas to come home exhausted, overwhelmed and resistant to homework. To my surprise, he was focused and rarely resisted our direction. Over the past four months, Thomas has lost more matches than he has won however, he has also had some great pins and throws (body slams) giving him the best self esteem boost any 14 year old boy could imagine. He wrestled juniors and seniors who were stronger, faster and more experienced and instead of giving up, he fought with every ounce of his body until the buzzer sounded.

Thomas Hardy has lived up to his name, this boy of mine. What’s in a name? For my son it is being brave and being bold and I have never been more proud of him.

Check out these pics of my Boy doing what he loves!

August 13, 2019

Overcoming Obstacles

In late spring of 2018 my son, Thomas, was obsessed with Parkour. If you aren’t familiar with Parkour, I’ll give you a quick lesson. It’s a training discipline originally adopted from military obstacle course training. The aim is to get from one point to another in a complex environment, in the fastest most efficient way possible. Parkour is a great fit for my boy because it allows him to observe his environment in a new way. He has to imagine the potential for navigating his environment through movement around, across, through, over and under what is in front of him. It also promotes quick thinking while making less mistakes, and who can’t benefit from that? He was at the end of a very difficult 7th grade school year. He had faced quite a few obstacles and had difficulty finding a way around them. Parkour was an outlet that allowed him to stay physically fit and use his brain to problem solve and look for quick alternatives to obstances.

Thomas’s Parkour team had decided to gather in Washington DC one Saturday in May of 2018 for a national parkour event. It was being held at Gateway Park in the Rosslyn area of Washington D.C. Thomas begged me to take him so I bought tickets and cleared my schedule. I decided we would drive into Northern Virginia and take the Metro into the city.

It was a warm day so we dressed accordingly, packed a backpack of snacks and water and headed up 95 North to our nation’s capital. We decided to take the Metro from Franconia Springfield into Rosslyn. I parked my car in the parking garage, bought the tickets and waited for the next train. Thomas was excited and could not wait to see some of the nations best parkour athletes show off their skills.

Eventually, our train arrived and we quickly boarded and found our seats that just happened to be facing backward. Let me preface by saying that I have a propensity for motion sickness…very bad motion sickness. I quickly realized that I had made a mistake, I had forgotten to take my dramamine. The second mistake I made was that we were sitting backward. For anyone who suffers from motion sickness, facing backward in a moving vehicle can enhance the motion sickness. Before I could take action, the train took off and I immediately felt the first wave of dizziness. I quickly gathered our things, tugged Thomas gently by the arm and explained that we needed to find forward facing seats. He complied and followed me as we moved down the aisle. I settled into our new seats and felt the first pang of nausea. Dammit. I thought to myself. How could I have made such a stupid mistake?

My mommy brain went into overdrive, furiously searching for my options and problem solving. Glancing at the Metro map on the wall of the train cart, I could see that we had about 10 more stops until we arrived at Rosslyn station. Fearing the nausea would worsen, I quickly tried to calculate the time in my head and that was when I made mistake number three. I looked down at my phone to see what time it was. When you suffer from motion sickness a sure fire way to make it worse is to look down and read something. Idiot. Heat rushed over my cheeks. Worried that I might vomit, I became anxious and knew that I needed to take action. Thomas sat to my left looking out the window, oblivious to my struggle. It’s no secret that my boy struggles with anxiety. I didn’t want him to worry about me because I know that worry can bring on a full blown anxiety attack. I did my best to keep my misery to myself. I can do this!

One of the coping strategies that Thomas has found to be most effective during an anxiety attack is the 5-4-3-2-1 Method that takes one through the five senses in order to remind you of the present rather than focusing on what is making you anxious. I decided to try this method to see if it would help to lessen the nausea, dizziness and anxiety.

What are five things I can see? The bright red exit sign above the door, Thomas’s fidgety hands, my back pack in my lap, the fitbit on my wrist, the map of metro stops on the wall.

What are four things I can hear? Two women speaking in Spanish, the couple next to me discussing an upcoming visit with her family, the screeching of the rails as the metro rounded a curve, my own racing heart beat as my quickened pulse pounded inside my head.

What are three things I can smell? The body odor of the sweating man sitting in front of me, the sickly sweet smell of someone’s baby powder scented deodorant, the sun screen I applied earlier that morning.

What are two things I can touch? My cell phone, the back of seat in front of me as I push against it to make the spinning stop.

What is one thing I can taste? A metallic flavor in my dry mouth as I reach for my water bottle to take a swig.

The grounding exercise didn’t work. The nausea was peaking and I was sweating profusely. I could feel the drops of perspiration running down the middle of my back and my scalp was soaked. Why is it so freaking hot on this dang train? I thought to myself. I caught Thomas glancing my way, his eyes narrowed as he attempted to process what he saw in front of him. His mother was pale, sweating and swaying from dizziness.

I tried to focus on my breathing, inhaling through my nose and out through my mouth. Unfortunately, my breaths were shallow and it started to feel as though someone were sitting on my chest and my lungs could not expand. I started to feel light-headed. Thinking through my options, my thoughts began to race.

We can get off the metro a few stops early, rest and then get back on when I feel better. Damn, it’s hot in here! Thomas will be so disappointed if we miss this event. I think I’m going to throw up. Damn it’s hot in here! I need to figure this out. My armpits are soaked. He’s been working so hard at Parkour. Damn it’s hot in here! I could call Mark but what help will he back in Richmond? Why the hell do people have to wear baby powder scented deodorant? Damn it’s hot in here! Oh crap, I feel sick.

I looked down and saw that my hands had begun to cramp, forming a shape that resembled a lobster claw. Realizing that I was seconds from passing out, I leaned over to Thomas and opened my mouth to give him instructions. My mouth was so dry that my tongue and lips had trouble forming the shapes to make the words. He felt me lean into him so he turned to face me, a look of panic in his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Buddy I’m not feeling well.” I mumbled.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” he whispered, his voice on the edge of panic.

“I need you to tell the adults around us that I need help.” I mustered the strength to hand him my cell phone, “Take this.” I said as he wrapped his sweaty fingers around the phone.

“What’s wrong” his panic rising. I felt my own panic rising to my throat as I began to think about what would happen to Thomas if I passed out in the middle of a DC Metro train. Would he know what to do? Would anyone help him? My hands continued to curl into lobster claws and my arms contracted toward my torso. My feet were numb and my legs were tingling.

“I will be fine but, I think I am going to pass out. I need you to be brave and stand up now.” I said as my vision blurred and I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Slowly and tentatively, Thomas rose from his seat and said “My mom needs help.” His voice was barely audible above the pounding in my ears.

I began to hear the conversations around me pause as a few heads turn our way, unsure if they heard what they think they heard from my scared 12 year old son. My eyes began to flutter and everything was spinning. My mouth was numb and my lips felt as though they were sliding down my chin. I was quickly losing the ability to form words so I mustered every bit of strength I could and leaned toward my son one more time.

“Buddy,” I murmured, “Say it louder. Do it NOW!” I attempted to use that voice us mamas use when we mean business but it came out in a winded squeak. My head loomed forward and bumped into the seat in front of me as the muscles in my neck went numb and I lost the ability to hold up my head on my own.

He stood taller in the seat and boldly proclaimed to everyone around us, “Somebody help. My mom is sick.” his voice was shaking as he tried to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I was aware of a sudden flutter of activity around me. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. In between the eyelid flutters, I could make out at least 3 to 4 people standing in the aisle of the train, talking quickly to one another. One woman tried to help me sip from my water bottle but my lips and face were numb and the water ended up pouring down my chin and soaking my shirt. My hands continued to draw into tight lobster claws, my wrists twisting as my forearms strained against a muscle spasm. I could feel my toes drawing into a cramp as my feet labored against the constraints of my sneakers. My head spun, the nausea was horrible and I was soaked head to toe like I had just run a marathon. Even though my body was beginning to lose basic functions, my brain was still very aware of what was happening. I found myself somewhat curious about what was happening, no longer panicked but rather observant about what was happening to my body. It was surreal.

To my right, I caught a glimpse of someone squatting next to me in the aisle. It was a man, and he reached for my shoulders and turned me slowly so that I was looking him straight in the eye. As I struggled to focus on his face, I saw a beautiful pair of amber colored eyes and the longest dark eyelashes I had ever seen. He smiled a bright white smile and I thought to myself Dang, this guy is hot!

“My name is Nassir. I’m an Emergency Room Physician and I can help you. What is your name?” he asked as he reached for my wrist with his warm soft hands to check my pulse.

It took me a couple of seconds to respond because one, my face felt like it was slipping off of my skull and two, Nassir was so gorgeous and I felt a little self conscious that this handsome middle eastern prince of a man was inches from my sweaty pale face.

He’s so cute. My face is hot. I must be blushing. Actually it is probably because it is so damn hot on this train! Wait, did Nassir say he was an Emergency Room Physician? He’s a doctor and he’s hot!

Eventually, I managed to mumble some answers to his questions, giving my name, age and where I am from. I mentioned that my son was with me and Nassir assured that Thomas was by my side and he was fine. I could hear the adults around me, talking to my boy, peppering him with questions that might help Nassir in his assessment of what was happening to me.

Everytime a new body part would go numb or stop working effectively, I would think to myself, that’s weird. I could hear one of the adults instruct Thomas to use my cell phone to call 911. He put the phone on speaker mode so that the other adults could help coach him during the call.

Nassir asked if I was taking any medications and from behind me Thomas said, “She doesn’t take any. She’s 46 years old and healthy.” I was suddenly very proud of my boy but I didn’t have the strength or ability to tell him.

A pretty blond in her early 20s moved into my field of vision, getting within inches of my face to ensure I could see her clearly. “Hi there, I’m Abby. I have Thomas with me. We have your wallet and your backpack and he is on the phone with your husband right now.”

“Thank you.” The words uttered from my dry mouth.

She smiled, “I’ll stay with him and make sure he gets on the ambulance with you.”

“Nickie, can you straighten your hands and arms? ” Nassir asked me. I shook my head.

He reached for my hands and attempted to straighten my fingers. As soon as he let my hands go, they curled in on themselves once again, twisting from the painful muscle spasms.

Gently touching my shoulders and supporting me, Nassir said “Nickie, look at me for a second. Can you raise your arms out to your side?” I tried unsuccessfully and immediately I became aware that Nassir was assessing me for a stroke. Tears welled up in my eyes and I shook my head.

“Can you open your mouth?” he asked. Slowly, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Success!

“Puff out your cheeks and raise both eyebrows.” He instructed me and with great effort I did as he asked.

The Metro stopped moving and as the doors opened I breathed in the fresh air. Damn, it’s hot in here! A Metro tech, came aboard and began asking questions. She indicated that an ambulance had arrived and the Metro had halted to allow me to exit the train. I suddenly felt a tad guilty about the snowball effect my health crisis would have on the DC Metro system’s schedule.

“Nickie, can you walk off the train?” Nassir asked. I shook my head no and told him that my legs and feet were numb. Without hesitation, the gorgeous middle eastern prince scooped me off of my feet, all five feet nine inches and 150 pounds, and carried me off the Metro to a bench where the EMTs were waiting. Thomas continued to remain on speaker phone with Mark, while intermittently answering the questions of the EMTs on site. He was so grown up and articulate and knew way more about my medical history than I thought he did. Because I continued to have trouble speaking and was in and out of consciousness, Thomas answered most of the questions from the EMT.

“Does your mom have any allergies?” one EMT asked.

“She’s allergic to cats. They make her sneeze” I chuckled inside and then worried that the EMTs would laugh at my boy for not fully understanding that the question referred to medications and other health and safety related allergies.

“Got it.” said the EMT with a gentle smile. “We will take note of that. Do you know if she has allergies to any medications?” he clarified. I wanted to kiss that EMT for being so kind to my boy. Because Mark was still on speaker phone, he was able to fill in the details as needed.

At this point the nausea and dizziness was overwhelming. I vocalized the best I could that I might throw up. Nassir gave the EMTs his medical assessment and I listened as he described ruling out a stroke. Thank god! I took a mental note of his medical assessment and filed it away in my brain just before blacking out once again. I woke briefly and was aware that I was being wheeled out of the Metro station.

“Where is Thomas?” I managed to ask.

From somewhere behind me I hear, “He’s with me, we are following you to the ambulance. ” said Abby. That woman is an angel.

The EMTs pushed the gurney onto an elevator but there was no room for Thomas. I started to turn my head, searching for my boy when I heard Abby say “Thomas come with me. We will use the stairs to meet up with your mom.” feeling relieved, I blacked out again. I woke once more when the sunshine hit my face as we exited the station headed for the ambulance. I squeezed my eyes shut because… Dang, it’s bright out here!

As we approached the ambulance, I saw Nassir standing and talking with a metro worker and another EMT. He was spouting off medical terminology and giving the EMTs his medical assessment. I mustered enough strength to lift my head and say his name.

“Nassir,” he looked toward me “Thank you so much.”

He smiled, bowed his head slightly and said “Best of luck”.

As they put me inside the ambulance I heard Abby talking to another EMT who suggested that Thomas sit up front with the driver.

“Abby,” I said and she looked toward me “Thank you for helping.”

“You’re welcome. Bye Thomas.” she said waving and joined Nassir and one of the EMTs.

The doors on the ambulance closed and I could hear the EMT driver chatting with my boy. I strained to listen and I could tell from the tone of Thomas’s voice that he was feeling calmer and more relieved now that we were on the way to the hospital. I heard the driver mumble something and then he and Thomas both giggled. I smiled inside, because my mouth was still numb, and then I blacked out again. I woke suddenly when an EMT inserted an IV. Ouch that hurts. She put an oxygen mask over my face.

Ewww this smells weird.

“That’s because the mask is plastic.” she said. Oops, I must have said that outloud. I thought it was in my head but I was beginning to feel loopy from whatever medication they had given me to alleviate the muscle spasms. I cannot be responsible for anything weird I might say or do.

“Just keep breathing.” she instructed and I blacked out once again.

I didn’t wake up until I was in the ER. in a hospital bed, my arms and legs still drawn tight to my chest from muscle spasms. I was aware of two people in the room, most likely a nurse and an ER physician. Their hands moved over me from time to time, attempting to manipulate my limbs into positions that allowed for a better exam. They asked a few questions and even though I could hear them, I was unable to answer. Hum, this is so weird.

“Mrs. Brandenburger, any chance you are pregnant?” the physician asked. This question made me giggle a little inside.

Nope, shops closed.

The physician and the nurse both laughed. Oops I must have said that out loud too.

“My dad had a vasectomy.” Thomas chimed in from behind the doctor. How the heck does Thomas know that?

After more poking and prodding, the physician and nurse left Thomas and I alone in the room. I could hear him on the phone with someone but it was not my husband. As I listened closely to the conversation I realized who it was. Thomas had facetimed my big brother, Greg, because he was scared and needed emotional support from his favorite uncle. Greg listened intently and gently encouraged Thomas, commending him for his bravery and maturity. Again, I smiled inside because my face still felt like it was slipping off of my skull. I’m so proud of you buddy. I blacked out once again.

I woke again once Mark arrived. Later, I would find out just how much of a rock star my son was that day. Not only did he bravely stand up and ask strangers to help his mom, he called 911, communicated directly with the EMTs, remained level headed, stayed with me for two hours in the ER and gave Mark the necessary information needed in order to find our car in the parking garage. He did all of this on his own with only a little intervention from the adults around him. My husband was able to arrange for a friend to drive him and Leah from Richmond to DC, hunt down the correct Metro parking garage in which I had parked my car, send Leah with our friend back to Richmond, drive my car to the hospital, load my floppy drugged body into said car and drive home.

After a long nap, the drugs started to wear off and my muscle spasms subsided. Apparently, the extreme motion sickness had triggered an anxiety attack, which triggered hyperventilation which triggered something called respiratory alkalosis. Bottom line, it was just a freak incident with no long term complications, just a really good story to tell. Even though my boy missed his beloved parkour event that day in Washington DC, he gain something better, courage. Much like the concept of Parkour, Thomas was able to navigate a very difficult situation, rising to the challenge, problem solving and looking for alternatives to the obstacle. I’m thankful for the life lesson he received that day and I’m very grateful to Abby, the EMTs, the Metro workers, the ER doctors and nurses and to my middle eastern prince, Nassir. There are still nice people in this world, people that will rise to the occasion to help strangers. I’m so thankful that my boy had the opportunity to experience such kindness from strangers. I can only hope that one day he will pay it forward when he sees someone in need.

For more information on Parkour, see this link

For more information about the 5-4-3-2-1 Grounding exercise see this link

June 15, 2019

Full Circle

Our family has experienced quite a few changes recently. Leah finished up her second grade year, Thomas graduated from middle school and is officially prepared to enter high school, and my husband finished up his very last day as a public school teacher for Henrico County Schools. So many things seem to be changing and coming to an end and I’ve been trying to process all of it.

This week, I was out of town for work and as I drove back to Richmond this afternoon, I thought about my husband, and how he might be feeling on his very last day as a public school teacher. I thought about my daughter and how excited she must be for summer break. And I thought about my son and how nervous he probably is about starting high school this fall at the same school where Mark has taught for the past 11 years. I would be lying if I said I was not worried about Thomas’s transition into public High School. I think about it a lot these days. I worry about how Thomas will find his own way. Will he make the right connections with the students and teachers? Will he feel as though he is in his dad’s shadow? Recently I ran into the principle at Godwin High School, who is a lovely person and a friend of the family. After expressing my concerns about the transition to high school she smiled and assured me that Thomas will be fine. “I’ve got him.” she said with genuine regard for my mama bear worries, because she is also a mama bear so, she gets it!

A couple of weeks ago, I was fretting over High School, once again. In an effort to reduce my anxiety, Mark assured me that he had talked to several of his trusted students about keeping an eye out for our boy. He mentioned three girls in particular, all of whom I have met. They are funny, smart and well rounded and they promised Mark they would look out for our boy next year.

As I drove up to the house, Leah ran outside to greet me with a huge hug and lots of details about her last day of school as a second grader. I gave my husband a kiss and inquired about how he was feeling, considering he was no longer a teacher. As suspected, he did not make a big deal out of things because he is pragmatic and focused on his future endeavor with his recent promotion. He’s not particularly sentimental and he is too humble to admit just how impactful he has been to so many students.

I walked into the house, placing my things in the office and wandered into the kitchen where I saw a small black photo album sitting on our kitchen table. As I peered closer at the album, I realized that it was a gift from some of his former students. Opening the front cover, I saw a handwritten note from three rising seniors at Godwin High School. Their personal note wished him all the best at his new job and referenced him as the “Best PE Teacher in the United States!”. I turned to look at my husband who saw me reading the album and, of course, he minimized how wonderful it made him feel to be be recognized by his students for doing such a great job. The three girls who had given Mark this thoughtful gift were the exact same girls that had promised to look out for our boy next year.

Mark went on to explain that these girls made a point to come by his classroom before school to hang out, chat and write silly notes on his dry erase board each and every day. He shared that he always got a kick out of their silly messages and the personal jokes they shared. Unbeknownst to Mark, these students had taken pictures of their silly dry erase board notes every day, printed those pictures and made the photo album to share with Mark on his very last day of teaching.

Leah joined me, peering around my arm as I began to look through the album. I saw pictures captioned with funny inside jokes and memories from throughout this past school year. One girl wrote a note about the week she missed school for a family vacation, and teased about how much Mark must have missed her that week. Another dry erase note listed the 2019 super bowl results with typical teenager snarky yet comical comments about the winning team. Sometimes, the girls posed in front of the dry erase board, making goofy faces and posing for exaggerated selfies. It was quite evident to me that they had put a lot of thought into this gift AND it was evident just how much they adore and respect my husband. I was touched. Then I spotted one particular picture of the dry erase board that gave me pause.

I blinked as I read the note on the dry erase board that said, “Thomas is coming next year! Soooo he will be my new BFF!”

And just like that, the flood gates opened wide and the tears started to flow down my cheeks. Leah put her hand on my arm and rubbed gently back and forth in a effort to soothe me. She knew these were happy tears, grateful tears and hopeful tears. Thomas had a great 8th grade year and is not only several inches taller but he is also more mature and confidant.

The fact that our boy will be attending Godwin High School at the very same time that his father will be leaving that very same school, feels as though we have come full circle. I think that sometimes life brings you full circle to a place you have been before just to show you how much you have grown.

Below is the picture from the photo album that made me cry.

March 15, 2019March 15, 2019

It’s No Big Deal!l

Over the past few days I’ve found myself watching or reading the news and shaking my head in disgust at the daily examples of intolerance in this world. Sometimes it feels like we, as a collective society, are fighting an uphill battle when it comes to acceptance of those that are different from us.

This morning, after Leah was on the bus and Mark left for work, I found myself at home alone with Thomas. He’s growing up fast and like any typical teenageer, there are times he would rather be alone in his room than engage with the rest of his family. This morning was a little different. He was chatty and playful so I was relishing in the few minutes before he would walk out the door to catch the carpool to school.

During a lull in our conversation, we both turned our attention to the TV which was tuned to the Today show. The images that flashed across the screen were from the mass shooting that happened in New Zealand where dozens of innocent people were shot simply because of their faith. We both listened intently, trying to process yet another example of intolerance that resulted in violence. I decided to break the silence.

“I just don’t understand how someone can do this.” I said turning to my son.

Thomas pursed his lips in frustration, balled his fingers into a fist and punched the couch pillow to his right. “Why does this keep happening?” he said standing and walking toward the kitchen. I followed.

This was one of those teachable moments so I took the time to explain to my son that hate is not innate but rather is taught. I told him that it is important for us to channel our anger and rage into an outlet that will allow us to teach and show others how easy it is to accept someone who is different than us. He doesn’t always listen to me but this morning, he did and I was grateful.

After Thomas left for school, I took a few minutes to prepare for my morning. I had been asked to speak at Leah’s school for career day and I needed to review my notes one last time. I re-counted the giveaways I had made from scratch. I found an image online that I thought would help capture the point I was trying to make. It was an image of two stick figure children, one in a wheelchair, both holding kites with the caption No Limits! I was a bit distracted because my brain was still trying to process the anger I was feeling about the mass shooting in News Zealand, yet another example of intolerance and hate. That is when I realized the only thing I could do was take a bit of my own advice. I chose to channel my anger and rage into teaching 100 second graders about tolerance of people with differences, specifically disabilities.

If you work in the field of disabilities or are a family member of a person with a disability there is one common denominator that we all share. We spend a lot of time explaining what we do or answering questions about our family members. We are used to people saying things like “Wow, you must have so much patience, I could never do that.” One comment that every parent of a child with a disability has heard WAY too many times is “I’m sorry.” This comment is inevitably made with a head tilt, furrowed brows and a look of pity that can sometimes appear condescending. Most people have good intentions but don’t realize the ongoing struggle for acceptance of our loved ones with disabilities.

I took a deep breath, gathered my things and headed out to Leah’s school determined to channel my anger into something that might make a difference.

As I walked into the front office, several parents were signing into school in order to present for career day. Some parents had really cool displays and gifts they planned to share with the kids. A couple of parents were in their work uniforms including two police officers, a doctor and a pilot. They looked so important and interesting and I knew the kids would love hearing about their careers! I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious and unprepared, worried that my presentation would not be as exciting because I didn’t have a uniform, fancy presentation materials or gifts. I was worried that the kids would not like the tiny handmade laminated squares.

I made my way to my daughter’s classroom and she immediately jumped up to give me a hug, excited to share me with her friends. I kissed the top of her head and made my way to the front of the class. After a brief introduction from the teacher, I looked out at those sweet 7 and 8 year old little faces and I told them everything I know about disabilities.

I explained that some disabilities can be be forever and some can be temporary. I told them sometimes you can see that a person has a disability and sometimes it is invisible and you might never know unless the person tells you. When I mentioned to the kids that sometimes a person is born with a disability a cute little boy with red hair and freckles raised his hand to ask a question.

“If a baby is inside the mommy’s tummy and the baby has a disability, can the mommy catch it?” he asked.

“No. A Disability is not something you can catch from someone else” I said. “Sometimes the baby has a disability because their parent or another family member has that same disability and sometimes the baby has a disability because that is just the way they grew inside their mommy’s tummy.”

I showed them a short kid friendly video about a boy named Nick, with autism, and we talked about his differences. Lots of little hands rose as their curiosity peaked so I told them is okay to be curious and ask questions about a person’s disability. I explained that one way you can better understand a disability is to imagine what it might feel like to have a disability. The students volunteered to participate in activities that simulated what it might feel like to have a physical disability or a learning disability. The kids were engaged, empathetic and insightful as we reflected on each activity and imagined what it feels like to have a disability.

We also talked about how we can be the same in some ways, sharing common interests like ice cream and recess. I asked for examples of how they might find out they are the same as a child with a disability. I was not prepared for their sweet responses and ideas.

“You can sit next to them at lunch.” said one child.

“You can ask them what their favorite color is.” said another.

“If a person doesn’t talk you can use pictures or your hands to try and talk to them.”

“If she only has one arm, you can play catch. You just need to throw the ball differently.”

The message they received was It’s no big deal! A disability can be an explanation for why a child might need a little more help but it is never an excuse to not be their friend because there are No Limits when it comes to friendship. As I rounded out my presentation I gave each student one of the laminated squares I had made. I was touched to see that each child either tied it around their wrist, their shoes or their backpack.

The guidance counselor approached me with tears in her eyes. These were not tears of pity but tears of validation and relief that one more person was determined to stay in the uphill battle. She knew that I joined the ranks of guidance counselors, teachers and principles that are doing their damnedest to ensure these kids learn about tolerance and acceptance of others. She knew what my mission was and she was grateful that it was a success.

All of a sudden the students started to line up to speak to me one on one. One child told me that her cousin uses a wheelchair. One boy mentioned that there is another boy at his after school program that has a disability.

A tall boy with thick brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes came over and tapped me on the arm.

“Excuse me.” he started. “I wanted to tell you that I am color blind but It’s No Big Deal because I have figured out other ways to see colors.” I smiled, gave him a fist bump and thanked him for telling me.

My daughter scurried over to my side, beaming with pride as her classmates came over to talk to her mommy. Leah was learning a very important lesson, that the world does not revolve around her. There are other people in this world that should be accepted regardless of their religion, color of their skin or a disability. She learned that sometimes she has to share me with others, because of my job, and she is okay with that.

As I gathered my things to leave, one little girl made her way over to me. I looked down at her face and behind her beautiful green eyes was a bit of sadness or apprehension, I couldn’t tell which.

“Hi.” I said smiling.

“My little brother has autism.” She dropped her chin and peered up at me, her forehead wrinkling and I immediately recognized the expression. I knew what she was expecting to hear from me. It’s something that she probably hears all the time from other people when they find out her brother has Autism. She was expecting to hear me say I’m sorry.

I knelt down so that I was looking her straight in the eye and I said “That’s awesome!”

Her sad apprehensive eyes widened a bit with surprise and I said “Thank you for telling me.”

Her round cherub face lite up with a toothless smile and she turned on her heels and walked away with her head held a little higher, her eyes bright with the validation of acceptance and understanding.

I walked out of that school on a natural high that I haven’t felt since I found out I was pregnant the first and second time. I wanted to pump my fist in the air and say “Hell yeah!” I wanted to do cartwheels in the parking lot but decided against it given that my shoulder is still jacked up!

I hope I planted some seeds today. I hope that my message of tolerance and acceptance was received and I hope that these kids walked away understanding that when it comes to differences in race, religion and disability, It’s No Big Deal!

Below are some of the sweet thank you notes I received. Literally tears rolling down my cheeks.