Category: Life As I Know It

Life Lesson Courtesy of a Face Plant

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 9 Comments

pontoon2With vacation over Saturday, I already have that “did that really happen?” feeling…The routine of life is back, and I need to remind myself that it was just last week that we stepped out of our reality. While we had a delightful time, there are some memories that I want to stick with me over others.

Every summer we go to a family place in the Northwoods of Wisconsin where we see familiar faces as well as new ones. This year we met a new family through an unusual experience. My husband, Mike, and I were out fishing on the dock one afternoon when one of the pontoon boats was returning. It had been just a few minutes prior that we wondered why there was a new wooden ramp added to the end of the dock, and in a minute, we were about to learn why.

The boat looked like it was headed straight for the end of the dock instead of pulling up alongside of it. I looked at Mike like, “Do these people know how to drive?” and as the boat ran into the dock, I suggested to them, “Are you sure you don’t want to come in on the side?” and the woman who was driving answered, “Well, they said I should come in on the end…” and it was at that moment that I really looked at them and saw that the man on the boat was in a motorized wheelchair. Then it all clicked. The ramp was so that he could get on the boat…and they needed to line up with it so that he could ride off. After I shook off my “dork moment,” I offered to help them dock the boat. Mike and I pulled them in and anchored them as tightly as we could, and then I bent down to pick up the ramp so that it could face the opposite way for the man to drive off the boat.

Problem. The ramp was fastened to the dock. As the man drove to the edge, the boat sunk down much lower than the ramp. What to do now?

Geniuses that we were, we realized that if we all moved to the back of the boat, the pontoon’s front would rise up and as the chair got closer to the edge, it met up nicely with the downward facing ramp. Problem solved, right?!

Yeah…no. We watched the man drive his chair to the edge, meet the ramp, and begin to drive down it. But with the majority of the weight of his chair no longer on the front of the boat, the boat began to rise…and the chair’s smaller back wheels that were still on the boat were lifted up…and the chair sprang forward. It was a slow-motion scene that I saw happening but couldn’t act on fast enough, and we all watched the chair throw the man onto the dock for a major face plant.

Thankfully, the chair—which we later learned weighed 400 pounds—did not land on him but returned to its normal position after jettisoning its occupant. A couple of other guys on the dock saw the fall and came running to help. Obviously, we were all very concerned about the man—now lying with the side of his face pressed against the dock. Kneeling next to him, I asked him if he was okay. He was a bit shook up, but he calmly said, “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Just very matter of fact.

And in that moment, I saw the vulnerability and strength of this guy. It was one of those times where so much seems apparent in just a second. He couldn’t do anything to help himself—he just looked kindly into my eyes and half smiled. Here was a vibrant person, face down on the dock, knowing that’s exactly where he’d remain if it was all up to him. He was completely dependent on others, and there was nothing else to do but accept that and keep doing things…like going on family vacations and taking a boat out with his wife and sons to catch some fish.

Wow. For someone like me, who is striving to be more vulnerable in this world, it was a real a-ha moment. Granted, I don’t really know how this man handles his challenges overall, but in that moment, he was graciously accepting complete surrender.

After we assessed that he was okay, his wife explained that he was 200 pounds of dead weight. We took a collective breath and formed a quick plan of getting the chair in a safe position and then lifting the man back onto it.

With some teamwork, we successfully got him seated and ready to roll. His knees and elbows were banged up, but other than that, he was fine. He took the face plant with amazing grace.

And that’s how we met Jay and Melissa and their two sons.

Melissa shared with us that they go through life laughing an awful lot—because what else is there to do? With the exceptional challenges their family faces, they keep laughing and living and trying in the best way that they can.

The “fish” I caught that afternoon turned out to be some really good soul food.

I’m so glad I got a chance to share in Jay and Melissa’s world even for just a teensy bit. Not only were they lovely people, but they helped me remember that no matter what “chair” you’re in, the best thing to do is just keep on rolling. And when the occasional face plant comes your way, accept help with grace and gratitude, and remember that we are all in this together.

Cooling the Core

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments
And...inhale...
And…inhale…

I’m on vacation, but it’s Monday, and holy mother of pearl, I am keeping my 41-week streak (?!) of writing The Juggle Struggle going. Because that’s how I roll.

Yes…I am blessed to be on vacation. And that got me thinking about the value of being able to escape for a bit.

Much of the country has been dealing with heat waves this summer, and that means cities open cooling centers. These cooling centers are more than just a chance to give a brief respite from the heat—they can actually help a person without other decent ways to cool off lower their core temp and be better able to sustain heat later. Cooling your core can be the difference between life and death.

This vacation is my chance to “cool my core,” as well. Not because we escaped Chicago’s heat wave (though there was a 40-degree temperature swing from the day we left to our first evening away), but another “core”—my life core.

This year has been one crazy curve ball after another. Serious, life-changing curve balls. In February, I wrote about already wanting a 2013 do-over, but it only got harder from there. Without singing the story of my woes, let’s just say that 2013 can go suck it and suck it hard. The overall stress level has risen immensely when it wasn’t exactly low to begin with.

Let me take a moment to say that I know so many people who are also struggling with major life challenges. This is not a story unique to me, by no means, and I am well aware of that. My prayer list for those I love and care for is ridiculously long. So please know that this is not a whine fest (though if it was a wine fest, I would totally be participating.)

Okay, so back to my point before you were sighing and thinking I was simply going to moan and wail. Really. Don’t you know me at all?

Here I am on vacation. A vacation that is allowing me to take a break from life’s daily challenges and issues and recharge my batteries. And thinking about the whole “core cooling” idea, I realize that this time away not only serves me right here and now, but will also let me “sustain heat later.”

This chance to step out of my reality and do crazy things like just be instead of doing/solving/serving/going all the time will equip me to step back into reality and sustain life’s “heat” for a good while longer.

It is truly a blessing, for I know many people are unable to take a vacation for one reason or another, and it is often the very people who need it the most. I am indeed incredibly fortunate to be able to hang my gone fishin’ sign.

And so I will take the job of cooling my core here very seriously. A key element is to remind myself in the moment how awesome it is that I can take some time to hang with my family, read, relax, and just absorb the surrounding beauty. My biggest challenge of the day will be figuring out if I want to play tennis, go for a bike ride, or try to retain my crown of catching the most fish each year. Tough choices, no?

And when I get back home, I will strive to take some time each day to do some mini “core cooling,” and not let the day swarm over me like angry bees. (This, of course, just made me think about the movie Killer Bees from my childhood that totally creeped me out and fueled my bee phobia. Sorry about that. I should have used another simile. My bad.)

But hopefully my point is made decently enough to make sense: Taking a time-out—whether it is a huge one like a vacation or a tiny one like a cat nap—can serve us well beyond the moment. And now I intend to do some serious core cooling and curl up with a good book. Lucky me.

The Closing Circle

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Sandwich GenerationA few months ago I was taking my mom to a doctor’s appointment at a nearby hospital. With her no longer being able to walk for long stretches, I used a courtesy wheelchair to traverse the halls and make our way. In my haste to get on an elevator, I pushed her in forward and the doors closed. When we went to exit, it was hard to maneuver, and a kind woman offered, “It’ll be easier if you back her in next time.” I thanked her and off we went.

Little did I know how that comment would replay in my mind numerous times over the coming months, as my mom was on the verge of a major health ordeal. There would be lots of wheelchairs in our future, and nearly every time I backed my mom into an elevator, I thought of that woman.

Life is funny that way. A little something here or there rings out time and again as it comes into play in a way that you did not expect.

I am both a mom and a caregiver to an aging parent—what I’ve written about before as living in the Sandwich Generation. I deal with my son’s and my mom’s needs on a daily basis. Both are similar—yet at the same time, they are very, very different.

When you deal with a child’s needs, you know that you are equipping them to grow up and move on. But an aging parent is the exact opposite. The journey is not to grow and go, but to support and provide care during the inevitable decline. As a parent, you can measure “success” by seeing your kid go off into the world and make his way in it. I’m not sure how you define “success” in the other realm.

The woman who, when I was sick, used to stand ready with an unwrapped stick of gum for me, after my having to chew a horrid tasting pill (you know, back in the day, before flavored oral meds for kids…) is now the woman who I administer medicine to—including a terrible tasting liquid dose for which I stand ready with an applesauce chaser. Two women exchanging roles.

Merriam Webster defines coming “full circle” as “a series of developments that lead back to the original source, position, or situation or to a complete reversal of the original position.” I am aware that the circle is closing. I don’t mean that about my mom’s life, but rather the role I play in it. The receiver of care is now the giver.

Yet through all of her health struggles, she is still her sassy self. Her physical therapist is captivated by her ability to move her legs as nimbly as she does. (Those lovely 3-diamond legs…Why I couldn’t have inherited those babies instead of her chubby thumbs, I’ll never understand, but such is life). This dynamic—the fact that she is an adult and my mother—adds yet another challenge to the role of caregiver: she isn’t always thrilled to receive from me the help she needs. One might use the word “stubborn” once or twice, among other words, in describing my mother.

But she does indeed need that help. And so a new life chapter is being written day by day.

And just as we make our way, learning what is needed and figuring a new daily routine, I am well aware that it can change in an instant—and will for certain change over time. Nothing will remain as it is. This I know. The one constant is change.

And so I muddle through. Daily falling short, and daily asking for forgiveness and grace. But the beauty, power, and spirit of the circle is not to be neglected…the fullness of life and how it calls us to nurture one another through all seasons is a gift all in itself. Much of it is not easy, but all of it matters.

Embrace the Wedgie

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 10 Comments

A few years back the family headed up to Wisconsin Dells for one of those intense indoor waterpark experiences in the dead of winter. The kind where it doesn’t matter if it’s 356 degrees below zero outside because you’re in a climate controlled indoor experience that is nice and warm (though the humidity is approximately 172%).

Humidity aside, it is a great time to go down many crazy, zig-zaggy water slides and have some sopping wet fun. Me being the practical (aka miserly) girl I am, I didn’t want to wear my good swimsuit to go down all the slides. After all—I might wreck it—and where would that leave me come summer? (I know many women are shouting, “At the mall with a great reason to get a new suit!” but I find shopping for swimsuits about as desirable as eating my own hair, coughing it up, and eating it all over again. Too graphic? Maybe, but I think you better understand my feelings on swimsuit shopping.)

There was just one problem with my thrifty plan: the elastic had up and died in my old suit. Luckily I brought a pair of swim shorts to go over the suit (hey—I never claimed to be a fashion maven), but this did not solve the problem. While the shorts offered coverage, the exhausted elastic meant that every time I went down a slide (or pretty much did anything), the suit gave me a nice little wedgie.

I grew somewhat adept at demurely fixing the wedgie each time my suit scurried its way north, but it was a constant nag on my swimtastic experience, and it was really dampening my spirit.

And then I had an a-ha moment.

I realized I needed to embrace the wedgie.

Sometimes all you can do is hang in there as best as you can.
Sometimes all you can do is hang in there as best as you can.

You see, I was fighting it because I knew it wasn’t supposed to be—but what if I accepted it as reality and embraced it? What if I told myself that the wedgie was supposed to be there? It was in this moment that I realized that embracing the wedgie meant that I needed to stop fighting physics and work with it instead.

Granted, this took some getting used to, but from the moment I told myself “let it stay—this is my new normal” I felt a bit of a shift in dynamics (as well as my wardrobe). I owned that wedgie, and that made it less annoying.

When our time there was up, I gladly threw the suit in the garbage, but I didn’t forget the lesson. There are experiences in life where what is happening is not ideal but also inescapable for that span of time. I can fight against it and maybe have a moment’s relief, but the annoyance will be all the more frustrating the second it returns. Or…I can accept it for what it is—a “life wedgie” that I need to put up with for a while, and by doing so, lessen the nagging irritation.

And there you have the simple moral of the story, my friends: sometimes you need to embrace the wedgie in order to have as much joy as you can flying down the water slides of life.

Call Me Ripley, Dammit

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

The swirl of life can be all-consuming. Just the regular ToDos can make one day blur into another. Throw in a few curve balls, and some days it feels like your best option is to duck. Amidst all that hubbub, it’s easy to forget to have a little fun every now and then.

This weekend was my son’s birthday party for his friends, and the main event was laser tag. As things got underway, the host said to my husband and me, “You know, you guys get to play, too.” My eyes immediately lit up, but my husband was concerned we might put a damper on the boys’ game. Of course not, I told him—besides, we’ll mainly shoot at each other! And so we suited up.

I must admit, I had some seriously ridiculous fun. The place used strobe and black lights, plus it pulsed with the intense music of a Hollywood blockbuster. I let my mind only concentrate on the moment, and it reminded me of days where running around and playing Police Woman was a whole lot of fun.

Of course, I was in heeled flip-flops, so the men had a bit of an advantage on me, and my husband definitely took me up on the “we’ll just shoot at each other part,” as he shot me continuously. No matter where I turned, there he was, blasting away. I have to think it was a kind of marital therapy for him.

Look out, boys--Ripley is here!
Look out, boys–Ripley is here!

The completion of the first round gave us our stats, and I took…last place. We had a lot of fun comparing numbers, and as we poured over the info, I saw that we were all given names as players. The boys shared theirs: Tron, Spyder, Blade, Hammer…my husband’s was Alpha…What was mine you ask? Shaggy. Shaggy. That’s right—the dude from Scooby Doo known for uttering “Zoinks!” and always being hungry and afraid. What the hell kind of fighting name was that?! No wonder I was last place. Now if I had been named Ripley, then I would have showed those stealthy 10-year-old boys who was boss! Shaggy. Yeesh.

But the bottom line is that embracing the silly is good for the soul. I was never one for being too serious, but sometimes with all of life’s responsibilities, I forget to let myself just be plain old silly. Letting the troubles of the day wait a bit while I engage in a few minutes of play helps me to better deal with those troubles when I have to let them back in.

I’m sure that those folks looking through the window of the laser tag arena and seeing a 45yo woman (and a strange man with an evil grin stalking her!) amidst a bunch of 10yo boys having their own fun must have thought me pretty wacky. And that’s okay. I’m no stranger to wacky…and I thank God for that.

Maturity By Way of a Dingleberry

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

Parenting bright spots can come in some funny ways. As I wrote last week, my son is newly 10. Most days he makes choices that make me wonder if he will ever register on the maturity scale. Of course, there are those lovely glimmers of the man that he may become, like when I see how sweet and attentive he can be to younger children, I believe that someday he will make one heck of a dad. But on the average day, he exemplifies “typical boy.”

We had a mature moment this past week, though…maybe it is because he has now entered the realm of double digits. Or maybe it was just a blip on the radar to be followed by many more head-scratching moments. Nonetheless, I believe in taking the bright spots and running with them!

The Culprit
The Culprit

We were leaving our vet’s office with our dog, who had been there all day to have a procedure done. My son wanted to hold him on his lap. Since he did a good job bringing him to the vet, I figured if the dog was doing okay it should be just fine. Off we went. I would check my rear view mirror here and there, and all was seemingly well. But then I looked over my shoulder, and I swore I saw a little smear of something on the towel we were using for the dog. As I was processing this, I looked up to see my son’s eyes as big as hockey pucks staring at the poop on his hands. In a nanosecond, he cried out, “Mom! He’s got a dingleberry!”

Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with what a dingleberry is, go Google it. My son was using it very accurately. I had to get my eyes back up front not only because I was driving (though we were stuck in parking lot traffic), but also I had to hide my chuckle. Even though I knew that a poop-cleaning catastrophe lay ahead, I couldn’t help but be amused by the visual that had just played out before me.

What I found so impressive is that my son kept his head. He didn’t push the dog away or freak out. He did say, “Can’t you pull over and clean this?” to which I reassured him that I would as soon as I could safely turn off. But he really held it together (not the dingleberry—just his attitude).

In a couple minutes I was able to pull into a corporate parking lot. No bathrooms available, but we were able to clean all things to a reasonable point, thanks to a bottle of Perrier, hand sanitizer, and paper towels. We then journeyed on and hosed ourselves down when we got home.

I couldn’t help but be impressed at how my son handled the whole experience. From the smearing to the cleaning, he handled a crappy situation like a pro. (Please tell me you got that pun right away.) He even continued to take care of our dog—now dingleberry-free—for the rest of the ride home.

I shared with him how much I appreciated the way he dealt with the situation, and how proud I was of him for being so mature. He brightened up and had that look that’s says, “Yeah, I did do a good job, didn’t I?” It was a precious moment of seeing my kid understand his own capabilities and growth.

Who knew that because of a wild dingleberry, a boy might stand a little taller?