My Ordinary “This is Us”

“Joy comes to us in ordinary moments. We risk missing out when we get too busy chasing down the extraordinary.”
Brene Brown

Baby Randall, Milo Ventimiglia as Jack, Baby Kevin, Baby Kate, Mandy Moore as Rebecca.
*NBC/Ron Batzdorff/NBC*

I know I’m a bit behind, but it’s still hard for me to accept that the show, This is Us wrapped its final season. For six years, beginning in 2016, I followed members of the Pearson Family (namely twins, Kate and Kevin, adopted son Randall, along with mom, Rebecca, and dad, Jack) along circuitous life journeys that played into every possible emotion and scenario a young family could experience.

What makes this show especially unique is that it slips back and forth in time, showing the characters at different ages and in different years within each episode. Over the six seasons, you get to know the characters in real time as they age and grow, experience major set backs, and then get back up on their feet and plow forward. Creator, Dan Fogelman, along with his brilliant writers and producers, weave together stories that pull on every heart string you’ve got while telling powerful truths.

I guess I have a thing for family dramas, particularly ones that highlight imperfect characters, in whom I can see myself and those who so honestly reflect the world we are living in. NPR’s Eric Deggans sums it up perfectly, “In other words, the drama on This Is Us comes from small moments between characters living everyday lives.”

As a way of framing this post, I want to clarify that I’m not attempting to write a formal review or critique of the show. I’ll leave that to the experts! Instead, I want to share a few themes and narratives that were particularly resonant with me and my current roles as mom, wife, daughter, sister… trying to navigate life the best I can. I see this post as an homage really, to a show that has made such an imprint on my heart during a time when I needed its company.

The season finale, which aired on May 24, 2022 largely centered around an ordinary Saturday when the siblings are in their pre-teen years, living in the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh. When their plans are canceled at the last minute, they find themselves with an entire day with nothing scheduled. Mom and Dad are thrilled at the prospect of a quiet day and two of the three kids are bored out of their minds. Kevin and Randall sit on the couch checked out, making fun of their sister, Kate, who genuinely wants to spend time with her family. Kate has proposed a litany of family pastimes to keep them busy– puzzles, watching old videos, and playing an old pin the tail on the donkey game found on a bookshelf.

And what starts as an awkward “forced family fun” day turns out to serve as a microcosm for what the entire show is built on…appreciating the small moments, while they are happening. Little do the kids know, but just a few years later, their father (Jack) will suffer a fatal heart attack after a brutal house fire in the middle of the night. Jack will live on as a hero within them for decades to come and inform many of their life decisions but they will never have those small, fleeting moments back.

My wife and I recently decided to forego a 3 day exotic family camping trip we had planned months earlier and instead settled on a 3 day staycation. On a rainy summer Wednesday we trek up to Mystic, CT, to visit the aquarium. Our daughter revels at the Beluga whales and the proud penguins while her eyes loom large over whiskered sea lions and voluminous sea turtles. Before heading home we stop at a diner off the highway and order two salads and a grilled cheese. Our daughter is thrilled to hear that her lunch is accompanied by a complimentary ice cream scoop, which she mostly gobbles up and refuses to let us taste (we are still working on sharing).

It is such an ‘ordinary’ day, and, yet, as I write this post and think back to sitting at this nondescript diner I realize that, this is it…short, sweet, simple moments of connection.

Rebecca, the mother and matriarch on This is Us looms larger than life and serves as the anchor throughout the series. Like everyone else, she is imperfect, human and trying to figure things out along the way. She carries her family through endless trials including Jack’s death and raises three beautiful humans who go on to do the same for their families (the show seamlessly spans 4 generations). Rebecca and the entire family get thrown another curve ball mid-way through the series with her diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s. This curveball, although devastating, ultimately heightens the everyday themes of time, space and memories in beautiful and unexpected ways throughout the remaining seasons.

As Rebecca’s disease progresses ever so slowly at first and then more quickly towards the end of the series, I find myself floating back and forth in time in my life as well. While devouring the show each week, I can’t stop asking myself, what really matters? When my life and all the people in it are one day laid out before me as they are for Rebecca in a final metaphoric scene that takes place in an old-fashioned train car, how will I feel, what will I be thinking, what will I be regretting, what will I be most proud of?

Within this melancholy scene that parallels Rebecca’s final moments in life, I am smiling through my tears. I may have to flex a muscle, but in doing so I can see that it is within my power to stop grasping for things to be different. Like the Pearsons’, my life is messy and filled with ups and downs, regrets and yearnings. I may not have the next chapter (or two or three) figured out but neither did Randall, Kate, Kevin, Rebecca or Jack. Their lives are messy, filled with pain and loss, but they have one another. And that is more than enough.

As a closing thought, may we all lean into the ‘ordinary’ days and moments–and the people who fill them–and appreciate knowing that often, this is it.

Meditation on Parenting

“What would it be like if I could accept life – accept this moment – exactly as it is?”
Tara Brach

Accept that I do need my family’s help, a lot.

Accept that I clogged a toilet 5 minutes before signing on to a virtual meeting this morning and had to wait till after the meeting to plunge it.

Accept that as I’m about to take my daughter out for the morning to a museum, I learn that she might have an ear infection and need to stay local and schedule a last minute doctor’s appointment instead.

Accept that during our “local” playtime when we went to the library, my daughter showed that she definitely doesn’t fully understand the concept of sharing. (Snatched toy train cars from a child’s hands, proclaiming “mine!”)

Accept that my daughter said “mommy and daddy” as I was putting her in her car seat after the library. (She does not have a daddy.)

Accept that her lunch with egg salad was VERY messy and went all over her and the floor.

Accept that all I could do with the dog today was a short 5 minute walk.

—
Accept that parenting is hard. So much of it is outside our control…in fact every tiny moment is outside our control. The more we can let go of expectations and lean into acceptance and grace the better. Perhaps then we can laugh and lean into unexpected moments of joy along the way. (photo taken that same evening when we made it to Middletown’s Crystal Lake Park)

How Do We Protect Our Relationships?

“One of the greatest gifts we can give to the people that we love is to free them from our expectations of them.”
Meditation Teacher

I sometimes wonder how our relationships survive the act of parenting. By relationships here, I mean the relationship between a child’s parents or caregivers. Perhaps, the answer is that many of them don’t.

We don’t talk often enough about the “crushing responsibilities” that come with being a parent and how they can take a toll on the space and energy required to maintain the health of our romantic partnerships. This is not to presuppose that all co-parenting relationships look the same or have the same trajectory or expectations. With this post, I am speaking for myself and my journey which inherently look different than others. That said, I thought it might be helpful to share some of the personal challenges and vulnerabilities that have come with parenting and trying to maintain a strong foundation at home with a partner.

My wife and I met about 8 years ago through a mutual friend when I was living in New Haven, CT. She was living in a small rural town in CT and it often felt like our get togethers entailed exploring completely different cultures and terrains within the same state. Still new to New England, I was insistent on taking countless day trips to explore quaint towns, villages, cities, beaches, breweries and everything in between. It was light and fun when I stayed out of my head and just enjoyed the adventure of building a relationship with someone new.

This is not to say that building our relationship was simple or easy. We had our fair share of ups and downs. Coming out as queer was a long, arduous process that in many ways started when I was a young teenager. Having felt a bit stunted emotionally, I wasn’t comfortable or ready to start dating seriously until my late 20’s. By the time I met the woman who would become my wife I was 32, a very young 32 and still had a lot of maturing to do. I was no where near ready to settle down and had numerous hurdles to mount in order to feel ready to take that leap of faith.

Fast forward 8 years and our daughter has just passed the 20-month mark. She is a fireball, always in constant motion, exploring all the nooks and crannies of her big, wide world. It’s been an honor to be on this journey with her. At the same time, as the relationship with my daughter blossoms, I’m managing all the anxieties and stresses that come with motherhood. At times, this can become so overwhelming that I am able to see nothing else and am unable to focus on the role I play in my marriage.

In the days, weeks and months since our daughter was born — as we’ve muddled through ongoing sleep issues, a global pandemic, career changes and parenting anxieties — I am realizing that I’ve boxed myself and my wife into the role of logistics coordinators. Who is going to pick her up from daycare? Who is getting her up in the morning, doing bath time, giving meds, cleaning bottles, cooking dinner, driving her to the pediatrician’s office…the list feels endless. Resentment can so easily build up and our communication at times can look like a bidding war on who is doing more to manage our countless responsibilities. What starts as a conversation about the dishes or taking out the trash somehow devolves into an existential discussion about wanting to be seen and acknowledged for all “that we are doing.”

The truth is, everything we are “doing” can’t be assessed according to a rubric. No one is getting a grade. But we dig our heels in nonetheless and are ready to go to the ring to fight for our title as “hardest working parent, most deserving of a break.” The other day I found myself immaturely fishing for a “thank you” as if we were playing a game when I simply cleared the table after dinner.

Perhaps this is a form of #adulting that we are all immersed in, whether we have children or not. I do remember when we brought our now 5-year-old Portie (Portuguese Water Dog) home, we fell into a similar dynamic. I was more concerned with whether our dog got his paws dirty in the house, then if my partner had a good day at work. Had he been walked, fed, who was going to take him to the vet, etc.? Everything became a negotiation of sorts and communication between my wife and I centered almost exclusively around tying up loose ends at home.

I know that a lot of couples go through periods of this throughout the extent of their relationships, and some of it is to be expected.

But is there anything we can do to curb it before we start to feel more like business partners than life partners?

A couple of ideas that come to mind based on what I’ve noticed when I do manage to go against my “have to get things done” mindset…

To begin, when possible, I’m now trying to make a point to share space with our daughter, even if it feels like not a “good use” of our time. When possible, we will both give her a bath or pick her up from daycare or pile into the car for an adventure together. It may not make sense from a logistics standpoint, but it gives us a chance to breathe together as a family and create joint memories. Just this past weekend we decided to make an adventure out of a run to Target. What could have been a rushed errand to take something off our plate, was instead a full blown sensory and learning experience.

Interestingly, as a queer couple we are less subjected to traditional gender norms and heteronormative ideas around the roles we play inside and outside the home and who is doing “more” for the family. Instead of a power play, I am trying to look to our relationship as a team sport where we are both on the same team. If she is doing well, we are both doing well. And vice versa. If we are doing well as a unit, then our daughter is more likely to thrive. Admittedly, this is much easier said than done. There are so many pressures on each of us individually and it can become all too easy to slip into a contest of who is more deserving of the so-called parenting/logistics award. Perhaps it is a cry for control during a period in our lives where this kind of mastery feels more fraught than ever.

Additionally, I’ve realized how important it is to cultivate excitement around joint ventures and activities outside the parenting role. What is it that we can plan together, even if it seems lightyears away? (I already started daydreaming about a hypothetical winter 2023 getaway). I want to hold more tightly to those small moments of connection. Can we stay up past our bedtime to watch an extra episode of bad TV or meet up for a secret rendezvous at Chipotle for lunch? Perhaps these moments are not as sexy as our honeymoon period adventures, but they are just as meaningful.

As always, I am very much in the thick of this unchartered territory and open to the experience and wisdom of others. Above all I want to make more of an effort to give myself and my partner grace when one of us is stressed or overwhelmed. After all, what drew us to each other all those years ago at an ordinary bar in New Haven was our zest for life and adventure. Business and parenting logistics have their role, but perhaps letting go of some of these expectations and embracing “messy” will take us further in the end.

Into the New Year with Questions Unanswered

“What if you finally saw that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day and every day — who knows how, but they do it— were more precious, more meaningful than gold?”
Mary Oliver

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

As I lay on the chiropractor’s table earlier this week for a routine appointment, I reveled in the fact that no one could reach me in that moment. My phone was on but in silent mode (which is typical for me in recent years). I took a deep breath into my sky blue surgical mask and let out a sigh of relief.

Sometimes I feel like crying when I realize I’ve given myself permission to be still. It would be a cathartic cry if I let it out. As though I have finally allowed myself the time and space to exhale and stop whatever I was doing. Sometimes it’s my mind that’s moving a mile a minute, sometimes it’s my body and sometimes it’s both. I’m holding my breath for no reason so much of the time and the tension in my body is palpable.

As we all round the corner into 2022, it’s typical to turn into reflection mode. Have we accomplished everything we intended to in the past year? Have we lay a good foundation for the year to come? Have we reached that professional or personal benchmark we set for ourselves a year ago? If you had told me a year ago that I would have quit my job at the end of 2021 I would have laughed. That’s simply not an option.

This is just life…feeling overextended and grasping for air at every corner.

This is the life of a working parent and we have no choice but to muddle our way through the best we can.

Now my body tenses up in defensiveness in response to questions about my future. At least once a week someone asks me, “what are your plans for next year?” or “how are you enjoying your free time?” “How’s the time off?” It’s funny because a year ago I would have probably asked a peer in my shoes the same questions. From the outside, perhaps this does look like “time off” or “free time.” But from my vantage point today, this IS my plan. This IS my work. This IS my future.

My wife and I made a calibrated decision to shift the division of labor and our budget so that I could be home full time with our daughter and we could catch our breath as a family. My plans for the first time in as long as I can remember do not involve networking or applying for jobs or updating my LinkedIn profile. I’m home. I’m taking my daughter to the park at 3pm on a Tuesday or meeting a friend for a toddler playdate at KidCity (a local children’s museum) on a Friday morning.

I’m using small moments to engage with her in her surroundings and to walk two steps backwards into the fall leaves instead of two steps forward.

Allowing oneself to simply “be” in the world and lean back from the rush and pull of “doing” is uncomfortable and scary. Yet, it’s also the most natural feeling in the world.

I realize it is a privilege to be able to lean into life this way. It does come with sacrifice but it is not in the realm of reality for most parents and caregivers, particularly those from marginalized communities and those who are parenting solo. Why is that? Why are most moms expected to return to work in a matter of months (and sometimes weeks) after giving birth?

“The U.S. is one of just seven countries around the world that doesn’t guarantee any paid maternity leave, leaving the vast majority of workers with nothing at all.” In a recent interview on NPR’s FRESH AIR with Terry Gross, Claire Suddath, discusses her recent article for Bloomberg Businessweek entitled, “How Child Care Became The Most Broken Business In America.” In it she examines why childcare costs are prohibitive for most families and attempts to provide federal funding for care continue to fail in Congress. As a result, families are caught in a Catch-22 and ultimately face burnout. This puts a strain on relationships and forces families into a near impossible dynamic of constant negotiation and sacrifice just to make ends meet.

What we are doing in my family as we move into 2022 is unconventional and perhaps unsustainable. But it is a “Hail Mary” at reclaiming the sanity that we lost in the past two years. I am willing to step away from my “9-5” for as long as it takes to get that sense of balance back. There is another formula out there – which I will find in 2022 – that allows for each parent to take time for themselves and to contribute to the family unit in tangible and intangible ways.

I don’t have all the answers and know this is a leap of faith, but hope and trust that it will be worth it. And that I will find a few more creative ways to exhale beyond just my chiropractor’s table.

Wishing a happy new year to my friends and fellow readers. May this year bring peace to all of us with questions that remain unanswered.

~~~~

A poem by Mary Oliver
HOW WOULD YOU LIVE THEN?
What if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
flew in circles around your head? What if
the mockingbird came into the house with you and
became your advisor? What if
the bees filled your walls with honey and all
you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
the bowl? What if the brook slid downhill just
past your bedroom window so you could listen
to its slow prayers as you feel asleep? What if
the stars began to shout their names, or to run
this way and that way above the clouds? What if
you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang
from its painted branches? What if you suddenly saw
that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
of money? What if you finally saw
that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
and every day —who knows how, but they do it—were
more precious, more meaningful than gold?
Mary Oliver ‘Blue Iris: Poems and Essays’ Penguin Random House, 2006