Leisa A. Hammett

Me or Her?

"I know there's a lesson here." I realized there was a lesson in the frustrating experience I was having and that realization came just as I said those words. It took me a while and a talk with my spiritual teacher, to whom I said those words, to know the object of the lesson:

Surrender. Priorities. Nurture.

All of those three things are particularly difficult for special needs mothers, I believe. We find ourselves too often easily caught in a tailspin, a whirlwind, a vortex of challenges associated with our children's disAbility. Obstacles which are frequently beyond our control. Systems designated to serve but often succeed in wounding both us and our children. Family dynamics. Social quagmires. Surrender? Yeah, sometimes we must let go to be at peace. Like that St. Francis prayer: give me the wisdom to know the difference of the things I can change and those I cannot....(Paraphrased.)

Priorities? How, when it all screams equally to be done yesterday?!

And that's where nurture comes in. Sometimes we have to put ourselves first, making our care our priority.

Part of that challenge of surrender, priorities and nurture comes from the survival of our very mother-spirit. Who are we as women? Not just as mothers. Who are we as individuals? And what do we crave to feed our hungry souls? And how are we going about serving that necessary urge?

For me, it's creativity. Yeah, this blog is a platform for my books, for my daughter, for our autism/disAbility community, for my social cause(s). But it's also a sheer indulgence for me. And for that no apology is offered forth. This is an exercise in creativity and fulfillment for me.

The next step is another book. The previous falls were times of adjustment and moving. So, the last two springs have gone something like this: Mondays, GraceArt. Tuesdays, my spiritual teacher. Wednesdays, the blog. Thursdays my home/office. Fridays, the book. And, the book, that's the one that's been getting shortchanged.

Like this morning when I got myself all in a dither about the images that had not gone through--in dozens of attempts over more than a month--to send them to our solo exhibition gallery in another state. WTH! I've done this hundreds of times during my daughter's art career, etc. I finally surrrendered. The kind co-owner was going to take apart the frames and photograph Grace's art for their publicity flyer. I could have educated myself on how to send a Zip file. I could have figured out how to release the available images from Flickr. Easy for you to say, maybe. I'm tech-challenged. I let go. I meditated and the answer came: send them via Facebook. I did. Problem solved.

And two-and-a-half hours had evaporated. And had I figured out the techy stuff, more would have vamoosed. Precious hours pre-designated for the book. The lesson was to surrender. Put important things on the backburner and work on me, my book, my creative nurture. I have no regrets about those two-and-a-half hours. I act as my daughter's agent, it was part of the job. But now there's the job of tending to ME.

It's not a Me or Her question here. It's both of us. As difficult as it may be. It's a matter of spirit survival. 

Kindness of Strangers

I walked to my car, keys in hand, my vision blurring with the moisture of tears. A woman had come up behind us in the checkout line and bumped the counter, causing her soup to slosh and spill a dollop. Busy with my order, the clerk didn't notice. So I offered to hand her the rag on the counter before me. She appreciated the gesture, thanked me, wiped her hand and then noticed my daughter standing beside me smiling widely at her. "Hi!" she said to Grace and returned her smile and held it. "Are you having a good day?" "Yes," Grace replied. The woman continued the banter a moment more.

It's most everyday that those who see my daughter recognize she's "different." Truth is she's pretty and has an infectious smile. It doesn't always catch though. Some people stare at her oddity. Some seem fearful. Others, smile back and then give me a wink or a knowing look.

After some analysis of those surprise tears that never spilled, I realized why they came on so quickly. It was how the woman took the time to stop. To acknowledge the humanity behind the tall, child-like, young woman beside me.

That. Felt. Good. Thank you, Stranger, for your kindness. I needed that. We needed that.

Grace? She'll go on being happy. She's natured that way. Blessedly. Me? I'm not blissfully ignorant of all the ways the world perceives my daughter. A dousing of kindness? That's appreciated on any given day.

A Marriage Ends: Is it a Failure, or a Liberation?

A hint of chlorine perfumed my daughter as we left the Y. Zippered and snapped into Gortex, flannel and down--a wool beret on my head, a hoodie on hers--we stepped out into the black night of Friday. A flash of memories streaked before my mind's eye. A deja vu. We've left this Y, the one in the westernmost suburb of town, many other Friday nights, just like this one. Only, two-and-a-half years ago, I left this area I'd called home for 16 years for what I thought was forever. I was marrying up, supposedly, and moving into a posher part of town.

A sick feeling began to seep up from my gut, the third chakkra. I start to fondle words like "failure," "embarrassment." A slide show projected faces of folks here that I'd run into recently. Folks I hadn't seen since I left. Their mouths gaped open and their eyes registered shock and then confusion when they learned I am back. Already.

"STOP!" I yell within to the voice. It is the voice of my Ego. The same voice that I allowed to drive and fake and addict me to a relationship that proved not to be what it first appeared while my true self, my spirit, my consciousness cried out "NO! DON'T!"

"The Ego will kill you, Leisa!" The refrain from my spiritual teacher rebounds in the echo chamber of my mind.

The Ego that on that cold, damp, March night was kicking and punching me as my thoughts crumpled me as if I'd dropped into a crouched position on the ground, hands and arms up alongside my head to protect myself. The same Ego that delivered the fierce kicks and wild swings is the same one that also, at other times, strokes and puffs me.

I didn't understand those cautioning voices back then. Confused, I continued into the relationship that felt so right in some ways, despite the truth-telling of my gentle, knowing soul whispers. I continued because I was a singed moth driven to the flame because that was how love was supposed to feel. The only way I'd known. Love that began with my father and repeated again and again throughout my life.

So, I beat back the voice on that cold, dark night. I told it to shut up and I sat on the lid and held it down until it did. And then, I told myself the truth:

This. That. Was not failure. To leave was liberation. It took courage and tractor-trailor-sized portions of guts. The enormity of that so-called failure finally awakened me. My adversity was opportunity for blessed change, awareness.

So, failure? No. Liberation? Yes.

Yes.

One More Sip of Tea: A Series Addendum

Just when I thought it was over....When I wrote this blog post series on tea, I thought I was a bit nutty. That no one out here besides me cared. (Although I knew the later was not true, just not sure any of my readers cared.) Thanks for the comments on the blog and Facebook saying you did, were interested and were learning.

I'm back to share another story on the healing power of tea. I shared in Part II, a couple of my "go-to" tea cold remedies. And for the drinking readers out there (ha,) you know that sipping tea is synonymous with slowing down a bit and take a moment's breather. At least. But, for as many years I've been drinking tea, I didn't discover the truly de-stressing powers of the hot beverage until the last half-dozen years.

Last Wednesday morning was stressful. Grace had an appointment with Social Security to claim benefits because she is now an adult with a disAbility. I barely got out the door with any breakfast, let alone tea. But, I did have the sense to brew what I was craving: chamomile. Good choice. Starting when I was pregnant with my now adult child, I have learned to listen to what my body craves--down to certain vitamins and minerals (it helps to know what foods have these properties). So, that rush-rush, stressful meeting morning, that craving--it was probably my body's intuitive way of saying: "Take some chill-out tea for this venture. You'll need it!"

I was nervous about the meeting as at nearly at the last minute, I didn't think I'd done all I should have to prepare and I'd heard so many horror stories of the process. (Long, long story.) And, funny, as I write that, I think it sounds awful lot like the process of entering the school systems with a child who's recently been diagnosed with a disAbility. Perhaps I was not taking my own advice here. The game has changed and it's a lot more bureaucratic now with a lot less relationships to be formed by fewer people delivering less services. And, who ever heard of a governmental office being warm and fuzzy?!

I digress.

It was Wednesday following a long-holiday weekend, with an extra day tacked on for Grace to go to the beach with his father and grandmother. She got back in the night before. Our appointment was at 9 that next morning. Okay: be early. But, being early meant we stood outside in 30 degrees temps--Grace with remenants of a cold--for those 15 minutes we showed up before our appointment. Out came the Teavanna mug with steaming chamomile. Sip. Sip. Warm. And then, midway through the interview, sip some more. And that's when I noticed that medicinal effect that I'd known of for more than two decades but only in the last half-dozen actually felt. So, remember: it's takes good tea. A fresh variety. Brewing according to directions. No wonder I never experienced the benefits of chamomile's calm when I was buying less tasty brands; purchasing them, unknowingly, old, sometimes; using less than stellar (microwaved) water and letting my cup get cold.

I'm glad I've learned these little tips over recent years because that day, that tea in the middle of that interview with a government bureaucrat, was the equivalent of a delicious yoga pose, a shoulder massage or maybe a hit of Xanax (or so I hear of the later).

May you also savor the joys and find your little oasis in a good cup of tea. Life is beginning to bloom on  beloved bare branches, but March, here, has started out fickle with snow, cold and warm and back to cold again. And right now? I'm sipping chamomile and lavendar. Ahhh. Thanks for reading!

Tea series I, II & III.

Finding the Joy in Parenting (Even When It's Challenging): A Seminar

Two wise, mentoring women friends from more than one of my Nashville circles are helping to bring a gift to the Nashville parenting community. I'm anxious to tell you about it. Attachment Parenting and Nonviolent Communication are perfect partners, and this workshop, as I see it, marries the two:

Conflict to Cooperation, True Parenting Power, Boundaries, Values, Guidance

Nonviolent Communication (NVC) Nashville is bringing Ingrid Bauer to the area on April 5, 6 and 7. Bauer is from British Columbia, Canada, and is a compassionate parenting advocate and author.  She is an internationally certified NVC trainer and has developed and led family camps in Canada, the U S and Europe.

Bauer will be speaking in free a public lecture on Friday, April 5 from 7- 8:30 pm. Parents, teachers, principals, day care directors, mental health professionals; all will find the material pertinent to their work and lives. 

On Saturday, April 6, Bauer leads a workshop entitled “True Parenting Power," which focuses on discovering the power that helps adult and child both thrive.  The workshop teaches tools that work, and also create a positive experience for both adult and child.

Sunday, Bauer leads a workshop entitled, “Boundaries, Values and Guidance”. She will address the issue of balancing choices and boundaries, creating harmony and choosing effective responses to challenging behavior.

The workshops on Saturday and Sunday take place at Green Hills Senior Health Center, 2001 Woodmont Boulevard, 9 am - 5 pm.

The weekend is sponsored by Nonviolent Communication Nashville (NVCN). NVC is a communication process developed by Marshall Rosenberg, Ph.D., to encourage communication with  compassion and clarity and finding strategies that lead to lasting peace and harmony.  NVC is taught worldwide and is used for mediation of conflicts in local courts as well as internationally.

For registration, fees and financial aid information go to www.nvcnashville.org.

For questions, contact Barbara Nicholson via attparents (at) aol (dot) com

Source: adapted press release

Spread the Word to End the Word; 3.6.13

If you don't know what this is about, please click this link, www.r-word.org, and learn and then stop using the R-Word. Please! (And in researching for this post, I found this CNN interview with my blogosphere friend/acquaintaince Ellen Seidman. Be sure to click on the poignant video she made to explain why this word is so hurtful to parents like me, our community, individuals with disAbilities. And remember: Don't. Say. It! Thank you!)

[MCM Special] Developmental Stages: The Importance of Knowing the Basics

Hey folks, I'm guest blogging today about why knowing basic developmental stages are important in parenting our children and my experience of knowing and not knowing these stages and how it impacted my journey with autism. Here's the kicker...

Parenting can provide oodles of opportunities to feel regret--if we allow ourselves "to go there." However, one of my favorite, original self-talk mottos is: "I choose no regrets." After all, the past is dead, the future is not born. And, as Maya Angelou is often attributed as saying--I paraphrase--We do the best we can at the time with what we know, and, then, when we know better, we do better.

...Now follow me on over to MusicCityMoms.net for the rest of the story. See you there! Thanks.

Mothering Mojo Through Time

Three days, all I did, seemingly, was stand in the kitchen, chop, steep, simmer, stir and wash my hands. Grace came home from her weekend away with a cold. This one was a little more tenacious than the usual variety that we've been able, the last couple of years, to knock off in a couple of days. Chop. Chop:  homemade chicken and rice soup with onions, garlic, celery and carrots. Chop: fresh apples; peeled, juicy clementines. Chop, steep, stir: garlic, mint, ginger, lemon and honey--a cocoction of herbal tea that sssshhhed! the cough and shoved it out the door.

I had my mothering mojo on and it felt good. I remember the first time I experienced the pleasure of taking care a sickly version of my beloved flesh and blood creation. She was a wee one then, first exposed to the buggy mother's day out culture. It took her until about age eight not to bring home half the germs she met out there and me about four years to align my immune system and mental-emotional health to not welcome them into my own body.

Lately, I've been in the kitchen a lot. I'm cooking again now that we're nearly all settled in our new condo. I didn't cook much the last five years. I was in a relationship with a gourmet and between eating his rich, fatty fare and ordering and eating out, I lost my groove there.

Thinking back, I lost a lot of my mothering mojo those years. Distracted and winding blindly around an enormous learning curve of life. 

I start to go there, grieving the loss of that time, but remind myself I nurtured, tended and helped build a life with my daughter and for my daughter in other ways, such as her art.

I think we parent in seasons. Especially as special needs parents. My wonder friend John Shouse, said once that sometimes we are on fire with passion in our parenting advocacy for our differently abled children. And then other times, we are still parenting at our best, but it looks different. It looks different because of whatever is going on in our lives, with our energies. We are still at it, still there, though it may may look and seem like less at the time.

We can't be full throttle all the time, can we? We risk burnout if so, I believe. And, this is definitely a long haul journey that needs our constant, steady stamina.

Meanwhile, apron tied on, it feels good to mother-nurture her body and mine with the fruits born of our rich earth mother. It's fine mojo and it feels good.

Music City Moms: Teaching Kindness Toward Children Who are "Different"

Come follow me today over to MusicCityMoms.net. Some of you readers may remember back in the day, (from 2007 to 2011,) I was a moderator for the Tennessean's Music City Moms (later renamed Moms Like Me). The paper ended the forum in 2012, but one member resurrected the community. I am giving it a three-month trial run as a featured blogger (one post per month). I somehow missed my cue to promote this post when it ran. Whoops. It's still "up," and, you can still click the link at the end of this paragraph to read the rest of this story where I discuss the win-win for our culture when adults foster kindness to all children.

Being kind in the world begins [with] kindness fostered in the home. What are you doing to nurture kindness in your child towards differently abled children? Once upon a time, such as when I grew up in the 60s, students with disAbilities were nowhere to be seen. They were sent to institutions (generally no longer an option, which is a good thing) or kept at home. But mothers and fathers of children with special needs fought mightily for [the] rights [of] their children to attend schools, then to attend schools with typically developing peers and then to be in classrooms alongside those said peers. So, who won in the long run? We all did. [Rest of post here....]

Tea Time with Leisa--Part III

Okay! Ready? To make tea, you boil tap water, pour, steep and sip. Right? Worse, nuke a mug of tap water. Right? Nope and nope. Trust me. The type of water and how it's heated does affect the taste. I'll skip the parts about what temperature and bringing to a boil or just before a boil and all that that some say are necessary for certain teas. I boil and follow the steeping directions for each individual tea.

My electric Black and Decker tea kettle quickly brings a wee or a lot of filtered water (or anything but tap) to a boil. If I'm using loose herbs, I prefer to spoon them into a basket for steeping. I use the baskets that come in the vessels I mention below or you can purchase one, such as this. Then I set a timer for the precise time recommended on the box, which varies according to the of tea. I don't dump the pot every time I make a spot, but I do fill the pot with fresh filtered water for each new day that I serve up a cup.

Remember to steep according to directions. This is probably the key reason people don't like hot tea and find it bitter. It took me years to realize this.

Grace insists on an infusion of honey for her mugs while I drink all of mine plain but Earl Grey and sometimes a fruity blend. I've recently, signed up for Weight Watchers meetings again. I'm a "lifetime member." I'm ready to lose the next 10 from my 25 pound relationship gain 2007-11. Sometimes one spoonful of honey doesn't get it and each serving of the golden delicious costs me two Weight Watchers points. I'm experimenting with less honey for those blends that just scream HONEY! and a little stevia. I'm working on getting the amount of stevia down but seems when I get close, it accentuates the warm, yum, medicinal-healing taste & healing properties of honey.

Black, green, fruity herbal or just herbal, savoring my cuppa at just the right temp is key to enjoyment. If I'm road tripping I take this along, by Teavana. Absolutely the best for keeping tea piping hot for hours. I mean 3/4 of the way from Nashville to upstate South Carolina. Nearly a day's length. Great to pack for a bundle of errands or a day writing at the library (sssshhhh!). I was unable to verify if Franklin Tea still sells  a tall steel mug that is perfect for shorter jaunts as it's not as uber insulated as the Teavana mug. When I want just a mug to perch arms length away on my desk while I work at home, I found a steel large (not tall) mug by Starbucks, which is my fave. (I didn't pay this much for mine.) Ceramic only works for me if it's a cup sipped in a cushy chair face-to-face with a friend. No distractions. I'd love to hear your favorite varieties for cermic mugs that keep tea warm. I'm interested in local handmade pottery varieties and those with lids. Remember the wider the mouth, the more air will swoosh in and cool your hot tea. Go smaller.

If it's more than just me enjoying a spot of tea, especially if there's more than two and/or we'll be sipping more than one cup, I'll heat my large cast iron Japanese Tsetubin, which can be kept on a tea light warmer, or thought not advised, I sometimes keep it on a special warmer eye on my flat top stove. I recommend Teavana for larger Tsetubins. The materials used to construct the pot are important. Some less expensive models can chip ceramic paint. Franklin Tea has an array of fun pots for serving up small, or individual batches to a guest. Remember to heat up any serving vessel first before adding the water in which you plan to steep the tea. My Canadian friend used to do this each time I visited her during the colder months. This was before I became more tea savvy. I thought the warming up of the pot, the tea cozy and all a bit overkill, but she always served the perfect pot. Now I get it.(You warm it up by boiling tap water and then pouring it into the pot and letting it heat up the pot before dumping and putting in the fresh, pure, heated water for steeping the tea.)

If you've read this far you're gawking at my geekness or your resonating and you totally get it and/or maybe learned something new, maybe you'll even venture to try tea again anew. You'll either get me or not. I hope you do. If not, go ahead. Laugh at my expense. I'll enjoy my tea and never would I spit it in your face. ;)

The rest of the series:

Tea Time with Leisa, Part I

Tea Time with Leisa, Part II