Let’s Fix Christmas

This year, more than any other I have been noticing people tweeting and posting on Facebook the importance of remembering people for whom this time of year is difficult.  The posts focused on those who are lonely whether surrounded by people or not and those who simply are suffering inside, in silence from depression.  There were posts that begged for re-posts or requests for people to simply say” I’m here” or “I’m listening” and the thing that struck me the most was that this was a worldwide plea. I have friends in Germany, England, the US, Canada and even in my sunny, happy to fete at Christmas, isle of Trinidad, (where I remember the best Christmases of my life) pleading for people to reach out to others across the miles and over the internet to clasp proverbial hands and hold on tight to each other so we can all make it through the holidays and safely into 2017.


This disturbed me greatly.  Christmas is the one time of year I could always count on to bring us all together. Christmas is supposed to create that warm, loving feeling within all of us and give us renewed connections and most importantly, give us hope. Yet, here we are urging one another to hold on to each other tight because something is so very wrong this time of year for so many.


I love Christmas and yet I too, over the past few years have been feeling that it has become overdone, frivolous and by the time Christmas Eve comes around, a little stale.  I have become so sick of the talk shows and their “12 Days of Christmas Giveaways” and all the ways we can eat and still stay thin over the holidays and how to impress the guests at your holiday home soiree and all the shows radiating the pseudo importance of all the material shit that has been shoved down our throats since Oprah wanted us to have all she deemed worthy to be her favourite things.  We have been choking on all of it since television became 100% sensational and we have been dying from the overdose of “must haves” that have been instagramed, messaged, Facebooked, pinned, tweeted or tagged to us in the past decade.  Yet so many people are too hooked to turn a blind eye to it all and what it’s doing to their lives.

When my husband came upstairs, I mentioned what I was writing and he made a valid point.  People have gone from anticipating the magic and wonder of the season, to expecting things and or hoping to be impressive.  Whether it is a thing, a feeling, a person, at some point the purity, wonder, magic and holiness of Christmas slipped away when people started to get what they wanted year after year. People started wanting more and when what they had was no longer enough, the bar was raised a little higher and now it is too high. Many people cannot keep up with themselves. Christmas is becoming less about what we can do for someone else humbly or what we can give to someone to make their Christmas better and now instead of fewer of us in need, there are more of us in want and no matter how much we get, something is missing and what is missing is the true meaning of Christmas, it’s religious significance and simple humanity (all these ideas and observations from my guy who is not a religious person). Take away the hype and the material stuff and that warmth and glow we seek will re-appear.  People will be fulfilled again. We can start fixing it now. Start with ourselves and our children.

Many of us have something good we associate with Christmas.  Maybe it is an aroma, like that of a favourite dish or the smell of a real tree.  For some of us it is a sight or a sound, an ornament, church or a story a parent or grand parent would tell us about their Christmas.



A good memory could be of a card we saw on a mantle,, singing carols by a creche … whatever it was, something made us feel good.


Rich or poor, most people have something they remember about Christmas that makes them smile. The more Tom and I talked about Christmas when we were kids, we noticed our story was the same even though we grew up in two completely different countries and cultures.  His was snowy and white, the way it was projected throughout toe world and mine was hot and green and rich in a culturally diverse tradition but we both woke up way too early, filled with the same excitement with the same innocence of childhood and that wonderful feeling and longing that came about because of this wondrous time. What happened? Did he come? Did I get a gift?  – all questions that stir up the essence of Christmas morning.


As we grow up and fantasy becomes reality, it changes, but it shouldn’t mean we have to lose the essence of Christmas.  As a father, Tom still loves seeing what happens on Christmas morning when we get that reaction out of Logan and  Adam  when they see we actually listened during the year to what they liked and we were able to get it or at least come close to getting it, especially with our autistic son Adam as in his childhood he was so hard to figure out sometimes. Over the years we have watched Adam smile and Logan get so excited he could hardly put a sentence together when they saw the tell tale cookie crumbs and empty milk glass  – clear evidence that Santa stopped by. The reaction has become “cooler” now  – broad grins, high fives and tight hugs having replaced the jumping up and down and squealing.

In addition to the Christmas morning reaction,as a mother, it is about taking in who and what Tom and I have created and loving them so much and taking care of them everyday, teaching them, guiding them, helping them in any way we can …all that we do during the year as a family coming to a crescendo on Christmas morning because no matter what happened all year, good or bad, ease or struggle, we made it, we are together and we are healthy and happy and so grateful for who we are and whatever we share.  It is about making Logan that pumpkin pie he loves so much and the garlic butter party mix snack Adam looks forward to every Christmas Eve.  It’s about baking our un-decorated, very plain looking yet tasty cookies, or Tom making that chocolate cake with red and green sprinkles.  It’s about having whomever of my close friends (of various nationalities and religions) over to our house the week before Christmas, excited to cook for them and serve the sorrel I was able to make because I just happened to be in Pickering and was able to stop by the West Indian grocery one night.  It’s about hearing mummy talking excitedly about making pastelles and remembering how she, Reina and I would talk into the wee hours of the morning, tipsy from the scotch Dad would serve us whenever he woke from dozing on the couch in the living room. As a sister, Christmas is about making my sister her favourite cherry pie and receiving her home made cranberry pear preserves.  Its about Tom bringing the garlic bread and me bringing the roast to their house and about the young children in our family and getting them a special present I know they will love. It’s about watching Logan and Adam devour my stuffing and sipping a drink next to my husband on Christmas Eve night, grateful that we spent yet another one together, toasting the ones who are unfortunately gone but not forgotten. Christmas is about mass and the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christchurcha

and what that means to me and I think it is unfortunate the re-enaction of the three wise men’s gift giving got out of control or as we say in Trinidad, “gone haywire”.


We live in a time when we can get anything and everything in person or on line.  Black Friday and Boxing Day sales have gone from a day to a week.  Perhaps it is this drive for the material that makes us obnoxious and unsatisfied,  You see it in the people who love to let you know what they drive or “who” they wear and they don’t even realize they are showing off.  I’m not saying you should not buy what you want or treat yourself to something you think you deserve. Just do what you do in moderation, have some tact and don’t show off.  When you die, your body will decay and like everyone you will become just dust. Your clothes will be donated (hopefully) for someone else to wear and they would not have paid what you paid for it and your car will be driven by someone else and hopefully in spite of your possessions you will be remembered for what you did while you were on the planet and the manner in which you lived your life.  What people don’t blatantly know about you; the stuff they just happen to find out is much cooler than when you brag about your possessions. Humility is far more admirable than flaunting. Our children are spoiled and so are we and as we tend to do with so many things, Christmas is dying by our hands. So, (big sigh) as I type this and can hear my husband’s Christmas music playing in the basement as he prepares to stuff the kids stockings – I am going to do my part to fix Christmas and I am going to start with my little family and friends. And I urge all of you, especially the ones who reached out on social media to do the same.

Let us think about what we can do to change Christmas and make it what it used to be.    What can we do for someone or make for them that will put a smile on their face. Let’s spend more time and less money. Spread more joy, laughter, ole talk as we Trini’s say, and peace.  Let’s enjoy the food and resolve to work it off later. Let’s share the food we have with those who have little to none.  Let’s listen more and offer words of support to help lessen another’s pain. Let’s teach our children to do the same.  Let’s boost the importance of family and friendship and keep the magic of the season alive for little ones. Let’s make memories about whom we share the season with and not about what gift we gave or got. Let’s keep a part of the season quiet, humble and exclusive to your household and let us take the time to remember what Christmas is. Let’s remember generosity and kindness and let us be thankful that we were able to take it all in yet another year.  Let us live out the season in love and let’s turn our backs to the media that pull us in all the wrong directions. Let’s take a good look at what we do have and what we stand to lose and find ways to be grateful for our blessings – for every breath, every sunrise and for every day that ends with the ones we love, still a part of our world.  Let’s send out our greetings and well wishes and go off line for at least one day. Let’s take Christmas back. Let’s fix it because we can and maybe next year fewer people will feel lonely, depressed or unhappy and hopefully no one will need reassurance that people are actually there for them, ready to listen; ready to love. They won’t need reassurance because they will feel it.

happy-kid kids-happy kind-giftlove

It is way past midnight now.  It is Christmas Day, 2016. In a few hours my boys will be up and will make their way to the tree to open their presents and their father and I will watch and take in every second  and savor it.  Later, the phone will ring and the calls from the family will come – the hardest being the one from Mom as it will be the eighth one where we would hear her voice without Dad’s and she will stoically try to hide her grief and sadness over how much she misses him and we will tell her it is okay to feel the way she does; that she should remember how much he loved Christmas and how many,  good ones we were so blessed to have shared.  I will remember a funny Christmas moment with him and she will laugh and for a while it will be better until later, when she is in bed alone.  She will cry, say a prayer and pull herself together again, for herself, for us and because he would want her to, even though he would have struggled more than she would if the situation was reversed.  But in the end, we will all take comfort in the living and we will know and accept that we have been blessed to celebrate another Christmas with our family and friends.  I don’t take this for granted. And if f you have stumbled upon my blog and read this, don’t take it for granted either. I may not know you but I do want to wish you a Merry Christmas.  I don’t know why I chose to write this today.  I felt that I should – that I had to … that it was important that I did.  Like me, you too have been blessed to celebrate another Christmas.  I wish you the joy, peace and love this season is intended to bring.



If you feel lonely, know that you are not alone and that even though I may not know you, I think you are a gift and that you are absolutely significant to making this world a better place and you are important.  You are here for a purpose and it doesn’t matter if you know what that purpose is. You will not have all the answers.  I do not have all the answers but I know you are not a mistake. None of us is.  Believer or not, God bless you and keep you and may His light shine upon you and may you feel the warmth and power of His love, today and everyday.






This is Hop.  Look carefully and you’ll see him.  Hop was young robin who made our backyard his stomping grounds this summer through the fall.  In fact, Hop was last seen two weeks into November.  I am going to use the past tense to refer to him as I’m pretty sure if nature went the way it was supposed to, Hop is dead. I mean, hopefully not but his chance of existence given the freezing temperatures and snow on the ground now, pretty slim.

You see, Hop fell out of the nest before he could fly.  Having learned from experience after rescuing baby bird Bob from Brockville traffic, we kept our distance from Hop so that his parents would have a chance to help.   As the days went by, I watched these bird parents flap their wings in front of Hop, demonstrating to him how to fly but though he would give his wings a good all out flap from time to time, he never learned.  They swooped in many times to keep predators at bay as their little Hop, hopped about our back yard, then around the side of our house and on our driveway at times. Wherever he was, they were a short swoop away.  They fed him everyday, guarded him everyday and did not rest until they saw that he was safely tucked under our backyard fence boards.  The other bird children, learned to fly and soared off on their own, but not Hop. Even though his wings looked fine and functional, he would not fly.  He was content to just keep hopping about the back yard, pecking into the earth occasionally scoring a worm or an insect or morsel from our many barbecued meals, showing no interest in using his wings.  Why would he?  Life was fine. Everything he needed was right there in our back yard.  He had a great hiding spot to retreat to when necessary and there was ample food (Hop was quite a plump fellow).

Tom, Logan and I would joke about this bird.  We said it seemed today’s bird parent was reading some kind of “What to Expect…” parenting book and had turned into a bunch of enabler bird parents.  They hovered, fed and protected him well into the time when he became full sized before leaving him to fend for himself.  We had never seen birds parent their offspring the way these two parented Hop. Times definitely are a changin’ when birds parent like some human parents do.

The funny thing about Hop too, was how loud he was.  He would chirp loudly as he hopped and bopped about in the open, drawing all kinds of attention to himself which caused his parents to chirp this shrill, loud warning signal and our backyard had become a venue for a loud, bad chirp fest, sun up to sun down until Hop was on his own.

This creature fascinated me.  There he was, a bird, who by nature should have been abandoned because of his plight, still alive because his parents enabled his life.  His wings had become a decorative feature on his body.  He adapted to his situation and had become more like a chicken than a robin and in spite of all the treacherous situations he had blundered into, he survived from birth right to the onset of winter.   If indeed he is still alive, it would be a miracle if he survives winter.  I have a feeling we may just find a thawed Hop beneath the fence boards in the spring because honestly it’s really all about the survival of the fittest.

As human parents, we need to remember it’s still about survival of the fittest for us, too.  I think we tend to forget that sometimes.  Some of us have learned that if we wait long enough and flounder conspicuously, a human enabler will come around and save us.  Some of us forget that it is not only natural but vital that our children learn to fail so they can succeed and we do them a great disservice when we do their homework for them, buy or curry favour their way onto a team or into a group, write their job applications for them or skip the application process altogether and make a phone call to a friend so they can get a job.  Like Hop, when we write our children’s life story for them we are doing one of four things – we are reliving our lives through them in some sort of brutal attempt to fix our own shortcomings; we are telling them we don’t believe in them and we think they don’t have what it takes to carve their own path; we are telling them that our job and that of society as a whole is to pamper them and make it all better and most unfortunately of all, we are telling them they really are just puppets with no real value.


In the end, like Hop, these children will grow into adults who will fade into the background and then into the darkness then into nothingness because they were not fit enough to survive in this world because they were not given the tools by their parents.

When we are called to be parents we are supposed to love our children, protect them, treat them with respect and teach them by example and instill in them a sense of confidence.  We are supposed to teach them to fly even if it means watching them suffer through the learning process and wade through the thick sludgy, murky waters of failure.  Our children are the decision makers of the future and a great part of that group is being weakened by the parents who enable their children and allow them to be comfortable with their mediocre contribution to our communities and to life on the planet as a whole.  These are the same young people who expect grandiose things to happen to them without any drive or effort on their part.  New parents, do your kids a favour and do us all a favour.  Let them run and fall and cry. Let them see the real score during the game. Tell them “no” without lengthy explanations.  Make a distinction between them and authority.  Let them see that bad things happen but if they pay attention long enough and persist, they will see that great things happen too. Teach them accountability, responsibility and generosity.  Armed with these tools, they will be capable of leading and teaching and I for one will be more comfortable leaving the decision making of the future in their hands.  But as it stands right now, I gotta say. I’m a little nervous.

On the Eve of Fifty, Everything’s Just Fine.

We have swapped pumpkins and cornucopias for holly wreaths, twinkling lights and Christmas trees and the weather has finally changed.  It is still rather mild and we have had only one snowfall  and although everything has pretty much melted, winter is officially here which means my 50th birthday is less than 2 months away. For the past two years I have blogged about the goings-on in my life as I approach this milestone.  I looked at myself, looked at the way I approach things and and the way I live my life and somewhere along the way I had this notion that I would have it (my life) all figured out with all the answers to how to “be” as a 50 year old and on the day I cross into that year, I somehow will start this next stage of life differently. Along the way it felt like I was preparing for a trip to a foreign land, learning as much as I could from my experiences so that once I reached my destination I would be free of all doubt and confusion, ready to accept the wondrous things that would come with new territory. But with barely 2 months to go, I realize there is no new start, no expectation of anything remarkable save for the fact that I have been blessed with a good and healthy life and have been able to walk this planet for 50 years and for that, I am thankful.

Lately, I have been driving a lot for work and while it can be exhausting, mostly I look forward to my road trips where I’m in the car by myself, listening to music that matters to me and basking in that glorious time of reflection and peace.  I also had the house to myself this past weekend, the boys busy with their lives out and about with their sports, leaving me to care for the elderly dog.  Having been on the road for 4 hours of my 12 hour day and coming home to the silence of a man free house, I was able to continue my thoughts on turning 50 and what I have done and where I am in my life now, decorating for Christmas all the while.

I busied myself trimming the tree and thought about what I view now as the absurdity of my teen years. Everything was way too important and ever so highly embarrassing.  God bless them, but teens are just not fit for society. They need time to flounder and they need to be allowed to sort out their unready-for-adulthood brains in their own way and in their own time with as much or as little guidance from us as they approach their 20’s.  My teenage years were no more special than any other teen’s. Not quite a woman but by no means a child, there was just no perfect place for me.  I was confused, I had occasional clarity. I was bursting with self esteem then riddled with insecurity.  I yearned to fit in, was desperate to stand out, longed to be cool yet craved to be alone and invisible. I wanted big boobs yet secretly wanted my small ones to go away because I hated that my body was changing.  I wanted to wear make up and be fashionable but I loved being in a t-shirt, shorts and running shoes. I was the graceful dancer with every hair in place pulled into a tight bun on the one hand and the sweaty, after lunch break. tennis and volleyball tomboy with hair flying everywhere or tangled like a nest on the other.  I wanted to be independent yet expected my parents to conveniently make things right, right away – which of course never happened, thank goodness.  I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted to be free, I wanted to go to parties and be allowed to do some of the things other teens were able to do but my parents were fairly strict and did not often allow me to go out late at night before I was 18.  I thought that life was great and I thought it was unfair as I drifted in and out of confidence.  In my teens, I realized that my childhood passion for the arts continued to give me great joy.  However it was a passion but I was made to understand would not yield great earnings and that I should turn them into hobbies and while I did resent my parents for this particular guidance, I know they were doing what they thought was best with the knowledge they had at that time.

As I looked back on my 20’s (which for me was a more polished extension of my teens), I smiled as I recalled how adrenalized I was about everything.  I was young and eager to make a difference clear enough for all to see.  In my 20’s the world raised me up and brought me crashing down, often on the same day and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the true meaning of everything, wondering what the underlying tone was when someone said or did anything only later figuring out that sometimes people just did or said stuff and there was nothing more to it even though I wanted there to be.  In my 20’s I was emotional.  I made myself feel everything and I mean everything, from sponsoring children in underprivileged countries, to the plight of dolphins caught in tuna nets and really getting into everything earth friendly, to listening to anyone’s sob story to worrying about my family….sigh…I went in 120%!  That was all well and good but it was a little exhausting for those closest to me because back then my emotions were pinned right on my sleeve where everyone was able to bump into and bruise them and have them spill onto everyone and everything like hot lava. I was always ready to argue or get to the bottom of everything right away because that was my agenda and I’m pretty sure even though they loved me, I had moments when my parents and sister considered me quite off putting.  Can’t say I blame them.

By the time I was 26, I sorted myself out and started being more comfortable in my own skin.  I had lived on my own for quite some time, paid my rent, my bills, took care of myself and had my job at the bank in addition to several freelance television jobs that kept me busy.  At 27 I felt that Tom and I were in a good place in our relationship and we moved in together until work took him out of Toronto for the beginning of what were the coolest years of our lives.  I made the decision to join him and leave my family behind, living for 2 to 5 years at a time in different locations around the country.  There was eventually a wedding, new jobs, followed by a baby born in the east of the country and another born in the west and adult life in the blink of an eye was in full force.

I have lived a whole lot of life that seemed to snowball right to the eve of my 50th birthday.  Having a special needs child, I have not always enjoyed a “normal” motherhood and if you are going to say “what is normal anyway”, stop right there, because normal is a life raising kids where you don’t have to have a plan A, B and C to go for a walk or for every single trip to the grocery store, or to school. Normal is booking a vacation and not having to tell everyone involved with your trip from the travel agent to the airline, to the hotel to the restaurant that you need to make special arrangements so that maybe you could have a relaxing and enjoyable vacation.  While it is better now because we put in the work, time and love, we have never been able to just get in the car and go – ever.  But even with all the trials of having Adam, I would not trade any of it because this has been and still is our journey and mothering these boys has been my purpose in life. It has made me and the life I lead, worthwhile.  I remember always struggling to figure out what I was meant to do with my life; why was I born?  My moment of clarity came New Year’s Eve, 2000 when I woke up from napping n the couch in our apartment in Montreal .  I nodded off while I was waiting on the ball to drop in Times Square while watching Dick Clark’s Rockin Eve, and I glanced over to where Tom was sitting at the computer and saw Adam’s playpen and could hear the occasional static of the baby monitor and I said to myself …”Oh yeah.  Right. I’m married with a child”.  I remember thinking life was really perfect. Too perfect and I had a feeling the other shoe was going to drop but I didn’t know how big the bomb was going to be until Adam started showing signs of autism and I realized what had been looming.

In your 30’s you start to settle into life .  You are used to working and you know how to live out your role as a member of society, an adult, a spouse, a worker and a parent.  Like most parents you look at the state of the world and you just want the best for your child and you focus on giving them a life even better than yours.  You set the example, you guide, you encourage and love and from time to time you are just scared shitless of screwing up their lives and even though it is perfectly normal to screw things up from time to time, we are hard on ourselves when we do. Most parents want to create opportunities for their kids to succeed and somehow hope to perfectly balance that with protecting them while trying not to overly shelter or smother them.  Add to that the responsibility of moving ahead in your career, always competing with yourself and others for a better salary so you can give your family a comfortable life and hopefully give yourself some kind of retirement.  Yes, your 30’s is a different kind of struggle and in our family, we were soaked by a big bucket of autism.

We became a family living with autism in 2002 and we always will be.  There have been and still are so many difficult times but I have to say there have been many more glorious times and I could not be more proud to be Adam and Logan’s mother and Tom’s wife. Throughout the years I have met many fabulously kind and generous people and very talented and unique people via my firstborn son and even more through our charity Adam’s Hope. When Adam was diagnosed, I was called to sacrifice work many times to be a wife and mother in an era when it is more acceptable to have a career than be at home raising your children, being a wife and running a household on one income.  While juggling the proverbial balls of my life, there were days when I juggled them perfectly catching them all, and other days when things would go hopelessly wrong, I would lose my grip and drop them, only able to watch them roll far away from me. You see, with autism, your bad days are the ones spent trying desperately to reach a child who may or may not connect with you when you desperately need him to so that you can do other things you can no longer ignore.  A child with autism was just one of the balls of life I found myself juggling, only when it slipped out of my hand, sometimes there was no catching it and it took the other balls (paying the bills, preparing meals, changing the soiled diaper of the screaming baby etc) tumbling down with it.  It was draining but I have had to (and to an extent still do) try and figure out what my son needed or wanted and then of course I have had to advocate for my son, and have been his voice most of his life while making an effort every day to give Logan the regular life he deserves. This was not how I imagined my life would be with constant re-adjustment and scheduling and modifications and therapy for Adam but there are days when I can honestly say I am happy I did not miss out on all it has given to me.

By the time I was done decorating our home for the holidays, my mind drifted to my 40’s.  While still quite consumed with family, work and autism, it was in my 40’s that I truly appreciated life and all that Tom and I had done and accomplished as a couple and parents and in our past and present careers. In my 40’s I could see that this marriage and this life we created for the 4 of us had the mettle to withstand the test of time.  I had learned and was continuing to learn so much more.  My outlook on life was based on a wisdom I had heard my mother and her friends speak of and I was truly grateful that I was getting older. I have never had a desire to re-live my 20’s and certainly do not miss raising babies and little children like I did in my 30’s.  My 40’s allowed me to confirm to myself that I am bat shit crazy about Daniella. I love her dearly and I am proud of her.  I have survived the grief and pain of my child’s diagnosis and I have watched both my children accomplish far more than I have ever anticipated.  Together, Tom and I have overcome many difficult times that were exacerbated by the fact we were trying to raise a child we were barely able to understand and trying not to deprive Logan of the attention he needed and deserved.  The effort we have put into raising them, the attention, love, care and independence we have given them and expectations we have placed upon them have helped them become young men of whom we are tremendously proud.  I have sacrificed my career path to raise them and I have done all that I was supposed to do to get them to this point in their lives and now, while still here for them, I get to do what I want to do and it feels great.

In my 40’s we moved our family across this country for the last time to a place I do not love but I can tolerate because I am able to leave it often and get to cities east and west of here, many times in under 2 hours.  We moved here primarily because my husband’s parents are ailing and he needs and wants to be here for them.  It is a place quiet enough to raise a family without the hectic nature of a bigger city.  It is one where I have made many acquaintances and at one point, even called some people friend, quickly learning that even in your 40’s friendship does not have the same meaning for everyone and the best thing to do is to remove those people from your life and find friendship in the places and things you know best.  In my case, it was keeping connected with my friends in the many cities and provinces in which I have lived and the group of women I was able to reconnect with thanks to a life changing 30th high school reunion and the click of mouse that bridges the distance between us.  I stood beside these women when we were just girls and being able to chat with them and keep up with their lives is a blessing and I am honoured and proud to refer to them not just as friends but as sisters. Knowing they are just a car ride or a click away has kept me in tune with my roots, what really matters in my life and who I truly am.  Having this reinforcement from them has allowed me to seek and make smarter connections with people close by who are intelligent, kind and interesting human beings with whom time is well spent.

One of the most difficult times in my 40’s was the year we lost our father.  His death allowed me to take stock of my life, get over my arrogant assumption of longevity and realize just how little time there is to spend with the ones we love and doing the things that really matter to us.  In my 40’s I began to take ownership of my actions and remove many of the things I would do for others (albeit worthwhile and necessary at the time)  from my life.  I considered how pressed for time we always were and I started to eliminate the things that consumed way too much of it. I passed on the operation of my charity to three younger and fresher mothers and cut back on volunteering my time for many things.  I realized that people often forget that we have Adam and that he needs extra guidance.  I think people forget that we can’t just commit to things the way others can because we often have to plan every minute of our day just to keep things running on even keel in our home. We should be the last people anyone asks for help yet we have stepped up and done our fair share of giving of our limited free time.  We have done a lot for charity, spending precious days when we could have been with our boys with other people and now we are done.  Now that they are teens my husband and I are are looking forward to creating new memories with our sons and spending time with dear friends and family.  I want to plan escapes where I can enjoy the performing arts and sporting events and culture with my family and go away on family vacations once a year instead of every two or three years now that we know for certain Adam can handle long periods away from the routine of school and home. With regards to work, I am will continue to mold our business into the well oiled machine it is shaping up to be and will work side by side with my husband to make it successful and unmistakably ours.

I am thrilled my 40’s allowed me to really dig in and be okay with who I am and excited about who I am going to be.  Known to be outspoken since childhood, I have learned over the years when and with whom I should share my opinion, generally doing so only with people worth the time.  I have learned over the years when to persist and when to cut and run and I have truly digested the importance of self preservation. I know who I like and whom I can live without.  I know who and what to take seriously and who and what I can ignore.  Loving oneself, protecting oneself, making one’s happiness a priority and being kind to oneself key to having success in all areas of one’s life as well as learning to accept the long hard times and the times when we fail.  In my 40’s I also learned to own my health and my faith by often connecting the two.  No longer a gym member or at mass every Sunday, I enjoy yoga, my ballet and contemporary classes and working out at home because it is in those times I am able to still my mind and speak to the Divine and truly connect and pray.  I have found that while I still enjoy the beauty and ritual of the Mass my connection with God is strongest when I am taking control of my physical and spiritual health …and it’s peaceful, simple, easy and, well … nice.

Throughout the different phases of my life I have had unfulfilled wishes and regrets and for the most part those are on me but I am thankful for them because it is from our mistakes we learn to do things better for ourselves and for others.  Throughout my life, I have done what I was supposed to do and now as I approach a new phase of my life, I am going to do what I want to do.  By the time I had my house decorated for Christmas and was admiring it from the couch while sipping my tea, it dawned on me that there really is nothing to figure out about turning 50, nor is there anything mind-blowing about it.  I know that now, because it seems I already have it all together and there is no need to spend precious time trying to figure out how to live life.  I have worked on my marriage, my family life, my career.  I have compromised and sacrificed, taught and guided. I have worked through the obstacles, have won and have lost. I know there is so much more good and bad still to come but I am armed with a great deal of life experience and no fear.  I know what I like and what I want and I don’t compromise those things anymore.  From the moment we are born, life happens and all we can do is the best we can with what we have been handed.  Until I die, I will always have to roll with the punches and I suppose the one thing getting older really changes is how we choose to roll.  I hope the people dear to me will have long and happy lives and I hope for the same for myself, my children and Tom, the love of my life.  I hope to see many places and experience many things that will fill my soul with joy and I hope to see my children grow into adults and watch them chase their dreams, achieve them and soar.  Life is hard and it can be ugly, painful and even cruel but somehow these are the ingredients so crucial for what makes life fantastic and joyful for out of the darkest nights, dawn the brightest days and we should be mindful to taste the bitterness of the bad so we can learn to appreciate the sweetness of the good … life is too short to do otherwise.



To all my SJC sisters and friends who have turned and are about to turn 50, I thank God for you and for being so blessed to have you in my life.  Your friendship crosses land and sea and I am so happy we were able to find each other again and happier still to be able to get together and celebrate with a few of you.  I wish you good health and all the sweetness life has to offer. I hope we stay connected for years to come and are able to have many more opportunities to gather together . I love you all, my 50 year old friends.  Cheers to a new phase of our lives. ~ Danie.