It's Broadway calling. We used to joke about this when we were starting out in NYC. The phone would ring and we would joke, with 100% wishfulness it were true, that Broadway was calling. Fast forward 10 years and here they were...calling. At the exact same time, our second child, Miles, was calling. The labor pains were hard and fast and once they started there was no slowing down. Miles was about to be born.
In the delivery room, about an hour before birth, Eric got a call that Andrew Lloyd Webber wanted to see him for a final callback for School of Rock in NYC (which would be opening on Broadway that year) in 2 days and Mr. Webber would only be there for that day. When it rains it pours and it was pouring...Babies and Broadway. Eric was torn about leaving me, so I booked his flight between contractions with Amex Points and resolve. In this moment, I was excited. When I saw they were doing School of Rock on Broadway, I was convinced in the depths of me that he would play the lead. It was heading to Broadway for the first time and I just knew it was Eric's for the taking.
The doctor came in to give the epidural and had to stick the yardstick sized needle in twice because they missed the first time. I realized that the IV was in my right hand and so every time I moved it gently tugged that vein out of the top of my hand. It was uncomfortable but it was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Nothing major was wrong so how could I complain?
Miles came into the world happy and healthy, kicking and screaming just like he is supposed to. Eric even got to catch him coming out like a little football and cut the cord. I sang to him and my body shook as I came down off of the drugs they had given me. Kyle and Megan (Eric's brother and his now wife) brought Sophie to meet Miles and it couldn't have been a sweeter moment. Sophia wore her Big Sister T-Shirt and Miles "gave" her a gift. It was just as it should be.
In the recovery room, it was dark, and even with the lights on it seemed dim. I remember crying as I felt overwhelmed by all that was happening at the time. It was okay to feel that way because it was, in fact, a lot. The next day, Eric picked up my mom form the airport and brought her to meet Miles. We all headed home and Eric went to NYC to get that job. I was so glad my mom was there because with a four year old at home and bringing in a new baby, you need an extra set of hands and someone who loves you around.
Eric got stuck in a snowstorm and couldn't return home right away so 5 days later he was able to get back to us. Sadly, School of Rock (the original cast) went to the other guy. It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time something like that happens. Hey, that's showbiz! I'm not gonna lie though, this one hurt. (Although, we all know now that he got the 1st replacement job and did eventually play the lead in School of Rock on Broadway, it was tough to see that first one slip away).
Mastitis (infected breast) took over my chest and my temp sky rocketed to 104.5 soon after Eric got home and my mom left. We were really in the weeds. Thank God for Sophie, because she had been bringing me water from the bathroom sink during the time between when my mom left and Eric arrived. It was scary. Eric thought clearly enough to call my doctor and she immediately called in antibiotics for me.
What was more clear to Eric than to me was that I was NOT myself. Tears streamed down my face as I walked through the day. I couldn't get out of the funk. If you've ever seen Stranger Things and know "the upside down", that is what life was like. Everything was in it's place, all the people were there and I was going about my day, but it was as if someone turned out the lights. It was dark and had an indescribable sadness that laid heavily on it. Something was wrong, but it was so hard for me to see it. I had Postpartum Depression and it was robbing me of life.
Thank God, I knew enough to know this wasn't how it was supposed to be. As if I had an out-of-body experience, I watched Eric take the phone and go to the other room, talking in hushed tones to my doctor. When he came back to hand over the phone so I could talk with her, I thanked my lucky stars that we didn't live in the 50's where I might have been locked up for feeling this way. I was able to be honest with my doctor and myself about how I constantly cried and I hurt in a way that was soul crushing. I felt that no one cared about me and that because I couldn't manage my sadness that maybe it would be easier for everyone if I wasn't there. The thing is...I couldn't find the reason for the sadness. Rationalizing your emptiness is something that prevents people from getting the help they need for depression, but once I realized that this was beyond the scope of rational, I knew I needed to try to get help.
She prescribed the highest dose of Lexipro and I battled the depression until the anti-depressant got into my system, which took abut 4 wks. I stuck with it because I desperately wanted to enjoy my baby, my child, and our life again.
Soon, I was able to see glimpses of the old self I knew and my response to life was what I expected. In other words, it didn't take me by surprise.
Over the next year, I continued to take the anti-depressant and I know that many people stay on them for life once they start them. For me, I knew that the hormones were leveling and I was starting to regulate at about the one year mark. I slowly tapered off of the medicine and began to cope with my normal feelings with my old standbys of tears, wine, and prayer.
And here is what surfaced for me as true as I came around the bend and saw light at the end of the tunnel...
1.) It's okay to be sad or feel overwhelmed. Sometimes those are the cards and you have to deal with them and all the feelings that go along with it.
2.) Know when to get help. If you can't manage the feelings that are happening and don't recognize yourself, it's time to call your doctor.
3.) It gets better. I know this was a popular campaign in the last year, but it's because it's true. The dark times sharpen and shine us. Darkness always gives way to light.
Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."
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Behind the scenes with our family on and off stage in show business, New York to Los Angeles and everywhere in between. Eric, the actor. Lisa, the teacher. Sophie, the 8 year old actor. Miles, the 4 year old comedian. And Simon, their dog. Laugh, cry, and party with us all the way!
Showing posts with label BroadwayBaby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BroadwayBaby. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Broadway In A Bathing Suit. The pur"suit" of a challenge.
My friend, Kiera, and I had scored tickets to “Hello, Dolly” on Broadway and not only were we looking forward to the show, but we had not seen each other in months. She lives in Sacramento and was passing through NYC for this 1 day, before she was headed to Ireland to study for a few weeks. It was imperative that we have this experience together. It's hard enough to get out alone when you have young children, but when your husband is in a broadway show, he doesn't get to do that nighttime date to see shows because he is the entertainment for other people's date. So when you have one of your besties in town and you've secured a babysitter that you are willing to pay a small fortune to, "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" and go.
Living in NYC, you naturally live your life end to end. By that, I mean filled completely with however many amazing experiences you could possibly have in one day. This is how we do it, baby. So....another friend of mine, Tara, and I took our girls out to Coney Island the day after school ended for the year. We rode the rickety rides and the girls screamed with excitement and only a little bit of real carnival fear. The trash littered sands beckoned to us like a fortune teller and we followed the call. I recognized the beach as being an escape, but Coney Island still has echoes of the creepy carny island that Pinocchio ends up in where all the boys are transformed into donkeys. Okay, so now that I'm saying it I realize that it's only slightly terrifying, so I'm going to label that "adventure". As we shared a picnic table on the pier with strangers, I took a bite of salt, shaped like a hot dog. My friend and I marveled with our girls on how someone could eat a hundred hotdogs in the famous eating contest which takes place here each year. Congrats to Joey Chestnut on his 74 hotdogs down and 11th win at yesterday's Nathan's Hotdog Eating Contest. It's absolutely disgusting but also impressive. When you explain to your child how someone trains their stomach to stretch so they can eat an unimaginable number of hotdogs by choking down the dog and then putting the buns in water and eating them wet, you really begin to realize how disgusting this contest really is. But despite this realization you just can’t look away because you can hardly believe it’s actually happening. There is a method to winning the challenge and you begin to understand when you see the Mustard Belt Trophy, the fanfare that goes along with it, and the ESPN coverage that someone could devote actual time to this training.
On a regular day, without the hotdog fanfare, the crowd is thinned out to reveal some tourist and some locals equally sizing each other up and people watching each other.
We head to the car, salt stained, sweaty and our heads spinning slightly from the heat and some from the rides. It was only 3pm, so I was on track to make it home to the Upper West Side to change clothes and head to Times Square to have drinks with my friend at 6pm and to see “Hello, Dolly” on Broadway at 7pm. As we headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge, it was evident that this would be a long ride home. The parking lot we called traffic barely moved. It was like watching water boil. You knew you would get there, but it seemed like time stood still. If only that were true, I wouldn’t have had a problem. The problem was the only thing standing still was our car. Time was running away like the A train and sadly, I wasn’t on it.
As we sat, my thumbs took their position on the keypad of my phone to tell my friend the bad news. The mom driving looked over at me and said, “My dad used to always say, “There are no problems, only solutions.” “ The light turned on and I decided I had to make it to this show. I could hop the subway down here and actually make it on time if there weren’t any delays.
And then...the classic words that every parent hears, especially when it’s the worst time and place for it...”I have to go to the bathroom, RIGHT NOW!” I looked back at my friend’s 7 year old and could see the pee dripping out of her eyes like tears. Oh sweetie. I’ve been there. I look longingly at my watch, wishing I could stop it. Then I look back to the little one in the backseat and beckon her with the wave of my hand to come with me. I spot a Starbucks just to our right and head inside. I ask for the bathroom, but my hope was quickly deflated when the snippy barista said, “If I let you use it, I have to let everyone else” as she makes an overdramatic motion to the sweaty line of customers awaiting their iced somethings. Okay, I now had 20 minutes to get to midtown and no prospects of getting this child to a bathroom. The only other business I could see was a FedEx at the other end of the block and across the street, so I brought her inside and gave a desperate plea. Again, the manager said “no public restrooms” and tried to send us on our way. So I turned to the sweet pea and she started to cry. I told them she was going to have an accident and they just shrugged and said they were sorry. “Just go ahead and let it go then sweetie,” I told her. “There isn’t a bathroom so you can just go right here.” In an almost magical turn of events, they they were actually able to let us use their restroom. That child should win a daytime Emmy.
15 minutes dedicated to the bathroom saga and I put her back in the car, which still hasn’t moved. I make a break for the A train and know full well it’s likely I’m going to miss this show. I feel like a crazy person, because I've abandoned all hope of class and am now just crossing my toes to show up salt kissed and sweaty in a bathing suit cover up, but it felt like a mission I had to accomplish. THIS WAS MY HOTDOG EATING CONTEST. As I ran down the subway stairs, the express train arrives and I jump on. I get off at Times Square and have about 4 minutes to get to the theater. My flip flops make a smacking sound like the clock ticking as a dart in and out of people until I made it to the theater doors, where my friend’, Kiera, had a smile and a ticket waiting for me. I apologize profusely for missing drinks and we sat down as my spinning head eventually came to stop. I straightened my bathing suit cover up, which I’m now pretending is a dress. Compact in hand, I checked my make up and lipsticked my way to presentability. As we watched the famous song “Put on your Sunday Clothes,” I had to giggle at the fact that if you can't wear your Sunday clothes, you can make it work with a bathing suit cover up. I made it to my friend and to this show which ended up being a fun and amazing experience that I won’t forget. The easy thing would have been to give up and cancel. But yet, so much of life is really just showing up and I’m so happy I did. I realized that I could conquer the unconquerable and that, as my friend’s dad used to say, “There are no problems. Only solutions.” Nothing great happens without a good challenge. And these are the things good blog posts are born of.
Living in NYC, you naturally live your life end to end. By that, I mean filled completely with however many amazing experiences you could possibly have in one day. This is how we do it, baby. So....another friend of mine, Tara, and I took our girls out to Coney Island the day after school ended for the year. We rode the rickety rides and the girls screamed with excitement and only a little bit of real carnival fear. The trash littered sands beckoned to us like a fortune teller and we followed the call. I recognized the beach as being an escape, but Coney Island still has echoes of the creepy carny island that Pinocchio ends up in where all the boys are transformed into donkeys. Okay, so now that I'm saying it I realize that it's only slightly terrifying, so I'm going to label that "adventure". As we shared a picnic table on the pier with strangers, I took a bite of salt, shaped like a hot dog. My friend and I marveled with our girls on how someone could eat a hundred hotdogs in the famous eating contest which takes place here each year. Congrats to Joey Chestnut on his 74 hotdogs down and 11th win at yesterday's Nathan's Hotdog Eating Contest. It's absolutely disgusting but also impressive. When you explain to your child how someone trains their stomach to stretch so they can eat an unimaginable number of hotdogs by choking down the dog and then putting the buns in water and eating them wet, you really begin to realize how disgusting this contest really is. But despite this realization you just can’t look away because you can hardly believe it’s actually happening. There is a method to winning the challenge and you begin to understand when you see the Mustard Belt Trophy, the fanfare that goes along with it, and the ESPN coverage that someone could devote actual time to this training.
On a regular day, without the hotdog fanfare, the crowd is thinned out to reveal some tourist and some locals equally sizing each other up and people watching each other.
We head to the car, salt stained, sweaty and our heads spinning slightly from the heat and some from the rides. It was only 3pm, so I was on track to make it home to the Upper West Side to change clothes and head to Times Square to have drinks with my friend at 6pm and to see “Hello, Dolly” on Broadway at 7pm. As we headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge, it was evident that this would be a long ride home. The parking lot we called traffic barely moved. It was like watching water boil. You knew you would get there, but it seemed like time stood still. If only that were true, I wouldn’t have had a problem. The problem was the only thing standing still was our car. Time was running away like the A train and sadly, I wasn’t on it.
As we sat, my thumbs took their position on the keypad of my phone to tell my friend the bad news. The mom driving looked over at me and said, “My dad used to always say, “There are no problems, only solutions.” “ The light turned on and I decided I had to make it to this show. I could hop the subway down here and actually make it on time if there weren’t any delays.
And then...the classic words that every parent hears, especially when it’s the worst time and place for it...”I have to go to the bathroom, RIGHT NOW!” I looked back at my friend’s 7 year old and could see the pee dripping out of her eyes like tears. Oh sweetie. I’ve been there. I look longingly at my watch, wishing I could stop it. Then I look back to the little one in the backseat and beckon her with the wave of my hand to come with me. I spot a Starbucks just to our right and head inside. I ask for the bathroom, but my hope was quickly deflated when the snippy barista said, “If I let you use it, I have to let everyone else” as she makes an overdramatic motion to the sweaty line of customers awaiting their iced somethings. Okay, I now had 20 minutes to get to midtown and no prospects of getting this child to a bathroom. The only other business I could see was a FedEx at the other end of the block and across the street, so I brought her inside and gave a desperate plea. Again, the manager said “no public restrooms” and tried to send us on our way. So I turned to the sweet pea and she started to cry. I told them she was going to have an accident and they just shrugged and said they were sorry. “Just go ahead and let it go then sweetie,” I told her. “There isn’t a bathroom so you can just go right here.” In an almost magical turn of events, they they were actually able to let us use their restroom. That child should win a daytime Emmy.
15 minutes dedicated to the bathroom saga and I put her back in the car, which still hasn’t moved. I make a break for the A train and know full well it’s likely I’m going to miss this show. I feel like a crazy person, because I've abandoned all hope of class and am now just crossing my toes to show up salt kissed and sweaty in a bathing suit cover up, but it felt like a mission I had to accomplish. THIS WAS MY HOTDOG EATING CONTEST. As I ran down the subway stairs, the express train arrives and I jump on. I get off at Times Square and have about 4 minutes to get to the theater. My flip flops make a smacking sound like the clock ticking as a dart in and out of people until I made it to the theater doors, where my friend’, Kiera, had a smile and a ticket waiting for me. I apologize profusely for missing drinks and we sat down as my spinning head eventually came to stop. I straightened my bathing suit cover up, which I’m now pretending is a dress. Compact in hand, I checked my make up and lipsticked my way to presentability. As we watched the famous song “Put on your Sunday Clothes,” I had to giggle at the fact that if you can't wear your Sunday clothes, you can make it work with a bathing suit cover up. I made it to my friend and to this show which ended up being a fun and amazing experience that I won’t forget. The easy thing would have been to give up and cancel. But yet, so much of life is really just showing up and I’m so happy I did. I realized that I could conquer the unconquerable and that, as my friend’s dad used to say, “There are no problems. Only solutions.” Nothing great happens without a good challenge. And these are the things good blog posts are born of.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Why This Mommy Decided To Get Schooled.
Why This Mommy Decided To Get Schooled.
Okay. Now what?! I read all the books on development during pregnancy, sleep training, and the anecdotal "make-me-laugh" books by celebrities with babies. The What to Expect i-phone App gives you a little glimpse of Word Pictures, a track of where your child should be on average, but that just wasn't cutting it for me. Baby Center offers their weekly advice and is a gathering of the minds and a cyber group where we can compare and contrast thoughts on what we are going through as parents. I found that with each article I read, I was bogged down with different voices and many times these mommy cyber-hubs become stomping grounds for a virtual yelling match.
As my search into educational programs for my little girl became more serious, I decided to take things to a whole. 'mother. level. When it comes to life forms, there are always a number of scientific theories on developmental growth. It will always be a study and never a definitive because there are so many variables with children that differ among the individual and environment. Having taken my daughter to a number of classes offering different styles of learning, I was most intrigued by those programs that were yielding, what I observed to have the greatest impact on her social and cognitive growth.
There was a program in New York City that had a great indoor playground space where we had an experience that made my question clock start ticking. The lack of any structure at all and a teacher who waited for children to approach her resulted in many children being left behind. I watched as my daughter tried to make a connection with another child using baby dolls. The teacher rinsed brushes and then turned and sang a song with zero participation from her class. As I watched the teacher with her stained apron and a vaguely absent look on her face sing from the corner, behind a desk, to a room full of 2.5 year olds, I wondered...how much glue did she sniff this morning? We decided not to have Sophie continue in Ms. Sniff's class, but instead found an eclectic blend of classes and play spaces for our 6 months in NYC.
The question that this experience caused me to raise to myself was, "What am I looking for in an educational environment for my daughter?" The answer was...I don't know. I was actually quite embarrassed by the fact that I wasn't privy to the new sciences or developments on education or school preparedness. Well, I wasn't going to waste anymore time wallowing in my embarrassment. There's no time like the present to start finding answers.
Of course, there is the checklist of top schools or "feeder" schools (for those in a big city private school market). This list only yielded more questions for me. Why?! Why are these the best schools or programs? Is it because some celebrity kids went there? Is it because it was a great school 20 years ago? Is there something in the water?
I had to go deeper. I reflected on my own childhood. 30 years ago, there just weren't the options that we have today. The social skills and cognitive learning that we acquired in preschool was often times a happy accident and less a calculated journey to what we now call school-readiness. I was grateful that it was easy enough to acquire information about milestones from popular parenting websites, but I felt that there was much more to this nut. I was merely scratching at the shell.
I'm not sure how many times I read it before it really sank in, but here is the idea that sent me on my newest and most empowering journey yet. I, as her parent, was her first and greatest teacher. A while ago, a friend who works at a school in CA had asked if I would be interested in subbing. I brushed off the idea because I thought I wasn't interested. All of the sudden, I realized that maybe I needed to be. Maybe I don't need to make a career out of it, but I realized as we began to walk home from Ms. Sniff's disaster that I could acquire this knowledge simply to improve the quality of life and education for myself and my child. I found a program with some classes that interested me through the UCLA Extension program and before I could blink, I had enrolled.
What was this strange sensation? My heart beat quickened. My palms were sweaty. This isn't what empowerment was supposed to feel like. Ahhh. Self-doubt, my old-nemises. Long time no see. What am I doing, I thought? I've already graduated college. I'm going to make a fool of myself. How do you even attend a class online? This is a joke. I'm not going to really learn anything. Arghhh. I'm just wasting money and time.
Log In. As I signed in for my first classes, I began reading from the textbooks about Early Childhood Development and understanding the science of cell make-up, the forming of the child and the various theories and practices that have become widely used and appreciated in the world of Early Childhood Development. Old Pouty Self-doubty had to retreat to some untapped recess of my now fully engaged mind. The new information was exciting and I found that it wasn't simply acquiring the information that brought me enjoyment, but rather the fact that I could now, with life experience, bring something special to that information. Nothing is more empowering than literally feeling yourself blossom from that Miracle-Gro blend of information and experience.
Since beginning the continuing education classes, I have been able to help our family better define what is right for us in regards to school choice and we have an approach to "at-home" learning that works in tandem with what they do at the program where Sophie is now. In September, I will have completed my Teaching Certificate through the UCLA Extension. You don't have to become a teacher to access the information that I found so helpful through my continued education, but there is a world beyond what can be attained through "gut-parenting." In this article, I mean to champion those who are out there who want more for your kids and are paralyzed or suffocating under a wealth of to-do lists and shoulds. You don't need someone to tell you what you should do with your child in every circumstance and situation. There is no perfect playbook. What we can do is know our kid, know ourselves and teach them to reach...for greatness.
Have you ever thought about going back to school?
Okay. Now what?! I read all the books on development during pregnancy, sleep training, and the anecdotal "make-me-laugh" books by celebrities with babies. The What to Expect i-phone App gives you a little glimpse of Word Pictures, a track of where your child should be on average, but that just wasn't cutting it for me. Baby Center offers their weekly advice and is a gathering of the minds and a cyber group where we can compare and contrast thoughts on what we are going through as parents. I found that with each article I read, I was bogged down with different voices and many times these mommy cyber-hubs become stomping grounds for a virtual yelling match.
As my search into educational programs for my little girl became more serious, I decided to take things to a whole. 'mother. level. When it comes to life forms, there are always a number of scientific theories on developmental growth. It will always be a study and never a definitive because there are so many variables with children that differ among the individual and environment. Having taken my daughter to a number of classes offering different styles of learning, I was most intrigued by those programs that were yielding, what I observed to have the greatest impact on her social and cognitive growth.
There was a program in New York City that had a great indoor playground space where we had an experience that made my question clock start ticking. The lack of any structure at all and a teacher who waited for children to approach her resulted in many children being left behind. I watched as my daughter tried to make a connection with another child using baby dolls. The teacher rinsed brushes and then turned and sang a song with zero participation from her class. As I watched the teacher with her stained apron and a vaguely absent look on her face sing from the corner, behind a desk, to a room full of 2.5 year olds, I wondered...how much glue did she sniff this morning? We decided not to have Sophie continue in Ms. Sniff's class, but instead found an eclectic blend of classes and play spaces for our 6 months in NYC.
The question that this experience caused me to raise to myself was, "What am I looking for in an educational environment for my daughter?" The answer was...I don't know. I was actually quite embarrassed by the fact that I wasn't privy to the new sciences or developments on education or school preparedness. Well, I wasn't going to waste anymore time wallowing in my embarrassment. There's no time like the present to start finding answers.
Of course, there is the checklist of top schools or "feeder" schools (for those in a big city private school market). This list only yielded more questions for me. Why?! Why are these the best schools or programs? Is it because some celebrity kids went there? Is it because it was a great school 20 years ago? Is there something in the water?
I had to go deeper. I reflected on my own childhood. 30 years ago, there just weren't the options that we have today. The social skills and cognitive learning that we acquired in preschool was often times a happy accident and less a calculated journey to what we now call school-readiness. I was grateful that it was easy enough to acquire information about milestones from popular parenting websites, but I felt that there was much more to this nut. I was merely scratching at the shell.
I'm not sure how many times I read it before it really sank in, but here is the idea that sent me on my newest and most empowering journey yet. I, as her parent, was her first and greatest teacher. A while ago, a friend who works at a school in CA had asked if I would be interested in subbing. I brushed off the idea because I thought I wasn't interested. All of the sudden, I realized that maybe I needed to be. Maybe I don't need to make a career out of it, but I realized as we began to walk home from Ms. Sniff's disaster that I could acquire this knowledge simply to improve the quality of life and education for myself and my child. I found a program with some classes that interested me through the UCLA Extension program and before I could blink, I had enrolled.
What was this strange sensation? My heart beat quickened. My palms were sweaty. This isn't what empowerment was supposed to feel like. Ahhh. Self-doubt, my old-nemises. Long time no see. What am I doing, I thought? I've already graduated college. I'm going to make a fool of myself. How do you even attend a class online? This is a joke. I'm not going to really learn anything. Arghhh. I'm just wasting money and time.
Log In. As I signed in for my first classes, I began reading from the textbooks about Early Childhood Development and understanding the science of cell make-up, the forming of the child and the various theories and practices that have become widely used and appreciated in the world of Early Childhood Development. Old Pouty Self-doubty had to retreat to some untapped recess of my now fully engaged mind. The new information was exciting and I found that it wasn't simply acquiring the information that brought me enjoyment, but rather the fact that I could now, with life experience, bring something special to that information. Nothing is more empowering than literally feeling yourself blossom from that Miracle-Gro blend of information and experience.
Since beginning the continuing education classes, I have been able to help our family better define what is right for us in regards to school choice and we have an approach to "at-home" learning that works in tandem with what they do at the program where Sophie is now. In September, I will have completed my Teaching Certificate through the UCLA Extension. You don't have to become a teacher to access the information that I found so helpful through my continued education, but there is a world beyond what can be attained through "gut-parenting." In this article, I mean to champion those who are out there who want more for your kids and are paralyzed or suffocating under a wealth of to-do lists and shoulds. You don't need someone to tell you what you should do with your child in every circumstance and situation. There is no perfect playbook. What we can do is know our kid, know ourselves and teach them to reach...for greatness.
Have you ever thought about going back to school?
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