Near Death Experiences: Why I'm Thankful My Near Death Experience Kept a Little Distance

Yesterday was my second oldest son's ninth birthday. I can't believe he's already that old, and I also can't believe it's been three years since I survived my own near death experience--an event that is still as mysterious as it was when it happened three years ago on May 16, 2009.

The world is filled with near death experiences. My father once shared his own tale with me by claiming that he floated over his body, saw the doctors, but couldn't communicate. That event has since plunged him into an obsession with creating a device that would allow body-less spirits to communicate with the living.

There's my son, Jonah, who turned 9 yesterday.

For myself, I don't feel compelled to move in that direction, though that event has definitely helped guide many of my decisions since I fell down, quit breathing, and turned blue in front of my wife, my soon-to-be sister-in-law, and my youngest son (while watching Twin Peaks, no less).

My Near Death Experience

So, here's how everything went down. We were all watching Twin Peaks when my phone rang. I jumped up to answer and heard my mom's voice on the other end. We were all planning to head over to my ex-wife's house to celebrate my son's sixth birthday. Anyway, we said a couple things to each other, and that's when I started to feel tunnel vision and lost consciousness.

From my perspective, everything went black. There were no lights. There was no floating over my body. Just a big nothing. (Note: I want it to be known I consider myself a Christian, so I'm not arguing for or against the existence of anything. I'm just sharing what I experienced.)

Eventually, I began to hear a frantic voice. Then, I could see my wife, Tammy, looking into my eyes. I could tell she was very worried, and I tried to to get up--but I couldn't. In fact, I could barely move. It was like my entire body was paralyzed--or like it had fallen asleep.

Stop Breathing, Turning Blue

From Tammy's perspective, I got up to answer the phone. Then, I sat down on the couch behind me and in one motion laid down. Then, I started snoring loudly, which is what cued her in that something was wrong. Eventually my breathing stopped altogether and--right before her eyes--my skin was turning crayon blue.

My soon-to-be sister-in-law called 911, while Tammy worked on me to get me back breathing. While she didn't have a stopwatch out to "time me," both are pretty sure that I'd quit breathing for at least a few minutes. Brain cells begin to die within five minutes of no oxygen to the brain, so my life and ability to function normally were hanging in the balance while I experienced nothing.

Tammy kept blowing into my mouth until finally I started breathing again. Even then, my eyes were open, but I wasn't home. So she kept "talking" to me until I found my way back to her.

No Answers, But Still Thankful

Over the course of the next month, I was put through a gauntlet of tests in Ohio and Georgia by a variety of specialists, including cardiologists and neurologists. I wore a heart monitor day and night--calling in suspicious codes (even in the middle of the night) whenever it beeped. I intentionally made myself hyperventilate for a neurological test (talk about weird). And I went through more than a dozen other tests.

Three years ago, I spent the weekend in a hospital bed.

Cardiologists were convinced it was neurological. Neurologists were convinced it was cardiological. Eventually, I ended up with no answers and a prescription for extra strength Vitamin D.

Without any answers, I felt like a ticking time bomb. The least little jump in my heart rate could send me into a panic. But eventually, that passed. I've learned to move on with my life, and I'm actually very thankful.

That moment, as horrible as it was, helped me realize what I was doing to myself. I was pulling all-nighters, letting myself get overly stressed out about work, and staying locked inside every day. I was truly lucky that I didn't have a similar event when I was home alone (with my 6-month-old son). If that had been the case, this blog post probably wouldn't exist.

So when I start pulling my hair out about work or bills or "a million things to get done" in a short amount of time, I now have my near death experience to draw upon for strength and patience and perspective. Nothing's so important that it's worth killing myself over. I can take a deep breath, relax my shoulders, and remember I'm alive.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out these other posts from the Blissfully series:

• The Good Side of My Father.
• I Began as Eyelashes Blocking the Sun.
• When Everything Changed.

Overcoming the Fear of Failure: You Can Beat the Odds to Find Happiness (Life Changing Moments Series)

Today's guest post looks at the process of overcoming the fear of failure to find happiness and comes from Susan Craig. I love this post, because it totally nails "the odds" of anything, whether it's getting published, finding a job, landing the perfect girl (or guy), or whatever. Many people use the odds as an excuse to "not try," but that only plays into the hands of "the odds," and well, I'll let Susan tell her story. Susan is a writer, parent, photographer, scientist, and pizza-lover. Her passion is writing romance. Her day job is teaching college biology, and in her spare time she loves her family and takes photos of plants, critters, and scenery. Check out her blog at http://bysusancraig.wordpress.com.

Susan Craig, Making Her Own Odds to Find Happiness

Overcoming the Fear of Failure: You Can Beat the Odds to Find Happiness

Trying to make my dreams come true seemed an overwhelming task until a statistician taught me how to beat the odds.

I Was in Over My Head

At 36 years old, I was beginning graduate school—not in a user-friendly discipline like sociology or education, but in hard science, where graduate school is a full-time enterprise: total immersion. I was the last person accepted into a cohort of 12 first-year students that faculty considered to be the crème de la crème of the current crop of biology graduates. The other 11 had been trained at the cutting edge of science, had the energy of youth, and were experienced in research.

I, on the other hand, had a degree in education (a B.A., yet) that was 14 years old and could claim not one whit of research experience. My previous life revolved around raising children and teaching elementary school.

How on earth had I gotten in? Somehow, by Divine intervention perhaps, each of my scores on the Graduate Records Exam was above the 90 percentile range. Apparently that was relatively unusual. So, on the last possible day, I was informed that I would be given a chance.

Don't misunderstand. I wanted to be there. It was my dream to become a scientist. But I felt like I'd been thrown into deep water, and the only hope was to keep kicking madly away until I learned how to swim. Less than a week into the program, we were informed that we were required to apply for National Science Foundation Graduate Fellowships. We would fill out some forms, write a personal essay, and design a research project to submit. I was totally out of my depth.

There Was a Better Chance of Winning the Lottery

The word on campus was that no one ever actually got a fellowship. The faculty just thought it was good practice for us to apply. You had a better chance of winning the lottery. That eased my fears a bit, until I spoke to my advisor.

Some of the other first-years had been told by their mentors to waste as little time as possible fulfilling the application requirement. That sounded good to me, but not to my advisor. He made it clear he expected a quality product, "your best effort." Eager to impress him, I worked hard, polishing my essay and proposal until they sparkled—or so I thought.

Try Again

When I brought my work for review, he was not impressed. "Try again," he ordered. "Keep it simple and straightforward."

Back to the drawing board.

Next time, he grunted and told me to have the post-doctoral trainees in the lab critique it to "help polish up the language." So I went to Pat, the lab numbers guru, who also had a reputation as an excellent writer.

No luck. He was too busy to look at my work. So I shopped it around the lab. Every time someone agreed to take a look, the papers came back to me bleeding red with snide remarks and comments. I was falling behind in my other work, as I spent hour after hour trying to please my critics.

At last the day arrived to send off the application. Grateful that the end was near, I printed a fresh, clean copy of the last draft and slipped it into the envelope. Just as I was about to seal it shut, Pat strolled into the student office. "Did you still want me to look at that?"

No, my mind screamed. I want to mail it and be done. "Yeah, thanks," said my traitorous mouth, and I pulled the sheets out.

After a 15-minute eternity he came back, smiling. "I hope it's okay that I marked on these." I saw streaks of red like open wounds on the once-pristine pages.

"It's fine," I lied.

The Moment of Truth

Pat nodded in acknowledgement and left. That was my moment of truth. I wanted nothing more than to crumple up those sheets and throw them away. Or stuff them into the envelope, red and bleeding as they were. We were required to enter, not to win.

As I struggled with myself, the door to the office opened and Pat stuck his head back in. "Funny thing about statistics," he said. "The odds of an outcome only apply to the group, not to the individual." He nodded his head at me and left.

Puzzled, I sat down at the computer and began making revisions—again. Half an hour later, I carefully locked the office door, then printed out a clean copy of the application and sealed it immediately in its envelope. Racing to the post office, I got it stamped with 40 minutes to spare.

It took weeks of hard thinking before I understood what Pat had said. If there is only a 10 percent chance of success in a venture, this does not mean you are at the mercy of random chance. It means that 90 percent of the group will give up, hedge their bets, or hold back from giving the task their all.

The Odds Tell You How Many People Put in the Effort Required

For the individual, success or failure with any specific task is clear cut. Either you make it or you don't. And success is always determined, not by the odds, but by a combination of work and ability—heavily weighted in favor of work. In essence, the odds just tell you how many people in a group were willing to put in the effort required to succeed.

Is this simple? Yes.

Is it easy? Not in my experience. I've always found it difficult to make myself actually put forth my best effort.

Is it worth it? Only you can answer that question.

So, did I get a fellowship? Actually, yes, I did. All the hard work paid off. But the part that meant the most wasn't the funding. It was learning how to beat the odds.

*****

Put Extra Work Into Your Query Letter!

Just as with Susan's example, a little extra work on improving your query letter can create an amazing results for your writing career (and your bank account). During the 4-week Writing the Query Letter course offered by Writer's Digest University, writers will learn how to dig deep and turn out query letters that get results.

Click here to get a seat in the next query letter course.

*****

If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out previous posts from the Life Changing Moments Series:

• Is This Really What You Want: Or Unbecoming a Shark.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• Knowing What Is Best: The Value of Another's Perspective.

Is This Really What You Want: Or Unbecoming a Shark (Life Changing Moments Series)

After a month of platform building, it's refreshing to get back to sharing these life changing moments again. They really help me feel more connected to my human side, and I'm so thankful for everyone who has already shared--and everyone who's in line to share. I'm excited to share this story from Jeannine Bergers Everett. Jeannine is a mother, writer, musician and Red Sox fan. An escapee from corporate life, she now blogs essays and poetry at http://mobyjoecafe.wordpress.com/ and http://momaiku.wordpress.com/. Known for her humorous haiku on parenting and life's other absurdities, she's recently completed her first novel.

Jeannine Bergers Everett, mother, writer, musician and Red Sox fan

Why don’t sharks attack management consultants? Professional courtesy. I first heard this joke from a fellow consultant, which probably tells you everything you really need to know about the business.

At the time I was the Market Research Director for a prominent consulting firm. I didn’t feel like a shark—no fin, no razor-sharp teeth, no taste for carnage. On the other hand, I was at the top of my game in an industry that demanded 24/7 availability and total commitment. I was ambitious, always looking for the next big step. Like a shark, I never stopped moving. So, maybe the shoe did fit.

Every Fish in the Ocean

Then I had my son, and along with the cuddling, the late night feedings and the dirty diapers came a crushing case of post-partum depression. My doctor put me on medication and the fog began to lift, but it did nothing about the ever-increasing demands of my job.

I began to have nightly panic attacks which led to insomnia, so I’d just stand over my son’s crib and watch him sleep. The days weren’t much better. Every time the phone rang I fought back the urge to answer “now what.” I felt like a shark whose first to-do list item was to eat every fish in the ocean. I like sushi, but every fish? Right now?

I thought about finding a new job, but I was making great money and the benefits were amazing. Plus, I’d been in the industry almost twenty years. What else would I do at this point? If I went someplace else would it be any different, or would I just be devouring fish in a different ocean?

So I asked my doctor to increase my meds, and kept moving.

'Is This Really What You Want'

I lived for the moment each day when I’d pick up my son. He’d run across the playground and fling himself into my arms. I soaked him in like sunshine. Then, in second grade he started having problems at school. He was behind in reading, and he wasn’t picking up math.

Under the stress of navigating the school system’s maze of educational resources, I was unraveling fast. I went to my doctor, hoping that another uptick in meds would get me through once again. This time, though, she said no. I was already taking a larger dosage than she felt was safe. My only options were medications with significant side effects—those usually reserved for seriously ill patients.

She asked me, “Is this really what you want?”

She was talking about the meds, but all I could think about was my life.

Stop Swimming, Start Sinking

Quitting my job was not an easy decision. We had a mortgage to pay, and a lifestyle built around two careers. We’d have to make some changes, but I knew we could make it work, because I built a spreadsheet. It said so.

So I quit. And just like a shark, I began to sink the second I stopped swimming.

I had very few friends outside of work. I had always been too busy to chat with the other moms, or volunteer in the classroom. While I’d been working, they’d been developing their relationships. It felt like I was trying to gain admittance to the Mommy Mafia.

I hated answering the question “What do you do?” When I’d say I was a stay-at-home-mom, I’d get the “how nice” smile and the person on the other end of it would find someone else to talk to.

Most of all, I had no idea how to be. Every day I faced a blank planner. I didn’t know where to begin. With nothing else scheduled, I spent the next week pulling crabgrass from the lawn.

Slowly, little by little, I built a life.

Building a Life

I moved on from the crabgrass to mastering the lawnmower, getting to the point where I could start it on one pull. I learned I really loved gardens, but I hated gardening.

I cleaned out the attic. We’d moved three times in seven years, and there were boxes we hadn’t even opened. The Goodwill guys got to know me by name.

My son and I snuggled on the couch reading Harry Potter and Captain Underpants. We invented games to learn how words go together and to memorize times tables. We pitched a tent in his bedroom where we sat with glow lights and debated who had better pizza, Presti, or Reggiano’s. We built snow forts and broke the rules by playing football outside in the pouring rain.

I took my violin out of storage and found a piece of my soul I hadn’t realized I was missing. I explored tranquility through yoga, and shed some anger through kickboxing. I tried African Dance and French cooking, and watched the Red Sox win a world series.

And I wrote. First journal after journal, then bad overly emotive poems, and snarky haiku. I started a blog that nobody read, wrote some flash fiction that a few people did, and finally, began a novel. And I remembered that when I was little, I thought I’d write books when I grew up. Throughout this process, the medication levels came down, until I was at the lowest dose of meds doctors prescribe.

Last Chance to Be a Shark

One day, out of the blue, a former colleague called, asking for help on a consulting project. I needed to know if that part of my life was really over, so I did the project as an independent contractor, hopelessly complicating our tax returns. The work that had seemed so urgent before just didn’t feel relevant anymore. I still had it, but I didn’t want it.

Now, I’m a writer, which in its own way is just as stressful. And I don’t know that I have it. But at least this time the answer to the question “Is this really what you want?” is yes.

*****

If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out previous posts from the Life Changing Moments Series:

• Where Angels Fear to Tread.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• Why I Give Back to Writers.

10 Life-Changing Moments

One of my goals for 2012 on My Name Is Not Bob is to offer more posts that attempt to make a difference--not just for writers but for everybody. Part of that is through my inconsistent Blissfully posts and part of that is through what's been a very consistent Life Changing Moments series of guest posts. Since the stories have all been so good, I wanted to collect the first 10 in this post to make them easy to find and re-visit.

Jane Friedman.

Finding and Longing for Community, by Jane Friedman.
In this post, Jane shares how leaving the familiarity of home led her to a real community of friends--a community to which she's often wished she could return. I'm sure many of us have experienced such a community, time, or place.

Flying Solo: Traveling to London Alone, by Collin Kelley.
Interestingly enough, Collin followed up Jane's post about finding and longing for community with his first solo adventure across the sea (in London). As part of the trip, Collin needed to get away from something, but the city surprised him in the end.

You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino, by Nin Andrews.
Nin reveals her unique eye disorder, strabismus. As a child, she was told to look away from the camera (instead of directly at it) by her own father, and other children (and yes, adults) were cruel to her about it. However, Nin discusses a moment that helped her move past hiding her eyes.

Bending the Rules: Or a Poet Has to Be a Poet, by Scott Owens.
Scott was asked to write a story--like everyone else--and he did...kinda. He explains that a poet has to be a poet, and so he shared several poems after a brief introduction. Once you read the poems, it's hard to imagine him tackling the task any other way.

Debbie Ridpath Ohi. Photo credit: Beckett Gladney.

When I Learned to Actively Pursue Happiness, by Debbie Ridpath Ohi.
It took tragedy--the unexpected death of her brother and new sister-in-law--to prompt Debbie to start living her life by her own rules, actively pursuing happiness and not letting anything (or anyone) stand between her and that pursuit.

Finding the Courage to "Go for It," by Sage Cohen.
Sage shares her crush on a boy in gym class and talks about the moment she decided to quit riding her bike back and forth in front of his house and do something about it. What happens next is inspiring in that it shows the difference in someone who constantly pines away and a person who takes chances.

When All Hell Broke Loose, and I Got My Life Back, by Christina Katz.
Christina shares a moment in her life when her life could keep going or quit altogether. In a perfect moment, she felt the capacity to end it all or keep going. And that's precisely the moment when many people find out what they're made of.

Jessica Strawser. Photo credit: Lindsay Hiatt.

Surviving Childbirth: Putting Gratitude Beneath Chaos, by Jessica Strawser.
As a father, I've been on the other end of four children being born, so I know a thing or two about what can happen in the process. However, I'm thankful I didn't have to experience what Jessica and her husband went through with her first child. But as you'll see, Jessica is filled with courage and a positive attitude.

The Upside to Getting Fired, by Sharon K. Owen.
I've had a lot of jobs over the years, but I've never had to go through the process of being fired. But I know people who have and know it's not easy (for several reasons). It's refreshing to know someone like Sharon can take such a negative experience and spin it into a whole new lifestyle.

Why I Give Back to Writers, by C. Hope Clark.
Hope is one of those people in the writing community that gives and gives (and gives). This story tells how she got started, who prompted her, and how that relationship made her realize just how much a person can give--even when they can't expect anything in return.

*****

If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• When Everything Changed.
• Overcoming Depression to Publish a Novel.
• Best Blogs for Writers to Read in 2012.

Surviving Childbirth: Putting Chaos Beneath Gratitude (Life Changing Moments Series)

Last year, three Writer's Digest editors were expecting new additions in their homes in the months of May, June, and July. Brian Klems (The Life of Dad blogger) welcomed his third girl in May; Tammy and I were blessed with Hannah in June; and today's guest blogger, Jessica Strawser, welcomed her first child into the world in July. I guess happy little bundles come in threes. Jessica is the chief editor of Writer's Digest magazine. In her 12-year career in publishing, she has held a variety of positions editing magazines and books of all sorts, dabbled in marketing and public relations, and worked as a freelance writer, editor and writing instructor, in addition to her own creative writing projects. Follow her on Twitter @jessicastrawser and look for her posts every Monday at There Are No Rules.

Jessica Strawser, editor and new mom. Photo Credit: Lindsay Hiatt.

Becoming a parent is a life-changing moment for just about everyone who's done it, so it was only a matter of time before someone wrote about it here as part of this series. As a new mom and a colleague of Robert's at Writer's Digest, I probably seem like a predictable candidate to be the first to rush to the topic.

Only this isn't exactly that story. Well, it is—and it isn't.

The birth of my son last summer and the months leading up to it were nothing if not life-changing. Everything shifted: my priorities, my worldview, my plans for the future, my caloric intake, the ease with which I would cry at sad stories on the news. I was a week past my due date, impatient, sleep deprived and badly swollen from unrelentingly hot weather when my husband and I welcomed our son with that heart-stopping mix of excitement, relief and fear that new parents come to know well. We held him; we held each other; we took pictures; we introduced him to his grandparents; we moved into the maternity ward; we stayed awake, even though it was 4 a.m., to bond with our new baby for just a few more minutes while he was alert.

And then I hemorrhaged.

Any Other Way
I'd been wondering aloud how my husband could be asking for an extra blanket even as I was peeling off my own thin sheets, sticky with salt. "You're going to sweat out all that swelling," the nurse reassured me. I said I felt sort of dizzy. "You haven’t eaten all day," I was reminded. Then I asked if it was normal to be bleeding. Of course it was. I blinked at the bright spots clouding my vision and mumbled that maybe someone should take the baby from my arms. Then I heard my husband yell, as if from a distance, "Her lips are turning blue!" Suddenly, a flurry of action: The baby whisked away. Doctors paged, orders shouted, procedures done, medications administered. From my perspective (flat on my back and semi-conscious), it went by in a painful blur. When the panic subsided and I was stabilized, I was just relieved to finally sleep.

It was only when I awoke a few hours later to the ghost-white face of the man I'd married that I began to realize the gravity of what had almost happened.

It turned out the monitor I'd been hooked up to had not been functioning properly. If we hadn't still been awake and aware of the symptoms when they began, if we hadn't persisted with questions while the nurse was still in the room, if virtually any other thing had happened any other way that day, things could have ended very differently.

If, if, if.

Glad You're OK
The conversations I had with friends and family in the days and weeks following the birth—in visits, phone calls, e-mails, texts—were not the ones I'd imagined having, with everyone cooing over how sweet our new baby was, coming by with things to eat, offering congratulations, joking about when we could finally share a glass of wine again. People did say and do all of those things. But they also said: “Wow—I'm so glad you're OK.”

I was too enamored with my new son to notice much else, but it was hard to miss the many forms I'm glad you're OK can take. Good-natured friends quipped that I was like some sort of old-time pioneer woman ("Complications from childbirth? Way to kick it old school!") and, when I returned home following a blood transfusion, my husband's refusal to leave my side in case I had a dizzy spell with the baby in my care was deemed "very Steel Magnolias." It felt good to laugh. It felt good to finally hold this miraculous little person I loved beyond words. And it felt really, really good to be surrounded by people who cared so much about us both.

My mom refused to leave her hotel near the hospital until I was released, in spite of my assurances that we were fine. My brother and dad drove disproportionately long distances for too-short visits. My husband's relatives researched the complication and called with lists of questions to be sure to ask the doctors. Later, a friend took vacation time and crossed three state lines—on a bus—to spend days with me while I recovered. At my follow-up appointment, my obstetrician stopped on his way out of the room and gave my arm a gentle, wordless pat. "The thing about having kids is, it can kill you," my son's wise-cracking pediatrician remarked—but when I met his eyes to share the joke, I saw his expression was serious. Everywhere I went, it seemed, even people I barely knew were genuinely glad I was OK. And maybe the oddest thing of all was how much it caught me by surprise. How little it takes, I marveled, to surround one another with such a feeling of warmth. Why wouldn’t we all do more of that every day? I felt indescribably glad of everyone around me.

Two reasons to be thankful.
Photo credit: Lindsay Hiatt.

Chaos and Gratitude
I'd been warned that having a newborn is not what anyone expects. Well-meaning acquaintances are fond of telling moms-to-be that aside from being enamored with parenthood, we'd also be exhausted and overwhelmed. With you-just-wait-and-see smiles, they forecasted the inevitable day when the proud new dad would return home from work to a sink overflowing with dishes and a basket full of dirty laundry, and inquire about what I'd been doing all day while I was "just" home with the baby.

But a post-partum hemorrhage—not that I'd recommend it—is a good antidote to such troubles. Yes, life is (much) more chaotic than it used to be. Those frustrating moments did and still do happen. But when we nestled in at home as a family of three, the chaos took its rightful place beneath the gratitude that filled our house to the brim.

In the middle of the night, I'd rise to rock my son back to sleep and whisper into his tiny ear, basking in the gift of these sleepless nights together. Just when I couldn't imagine my heart feeling more full, across the room my husband would stir and flash me a bleary smile, and I'd see it there, again—I'm so glad you're here. Or maybe, on a less tranquil day: I'm so glad I'm not here without you.

And on all counts, so am I.

*****

If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out previous posts from the Life Changing Moments Series:

• When I Learned to Actively Pursue Happiness.
• Finding the Courage to Go for It.
• When All Hell Broke Loose, and I Got My Life Back.

Secret to Good Parenting #1: Have Fun!

As a parent of five, I often stress myself out over whether I'm doing a good job with my boys and girl. At times, it feels like my primary job descriptions are "breaker up of fights" and "clean up your room proclaimer," not to mention "lord of get your homework done already."

Yeah, there are times when I feel like a real downer, though I realize the importance of not always giving in to what the boys want. But that's the real problem of being a parent: trying to walk the fine line of teaching values and still being someone the kids love to be around.

Robert Lee Brewer, after taking a pie
in the face at a Cub Scout pack meeting.

So I've tried adding other descriptions to my job as father, such as "taker of pies in the face" and "tickler of ribs." When the situation gets too edgy in the Brewer household, it's time to play a game or take a walk outside. Or it's time to read a book.

After all, it is important to teach values and life lessons, but it's also just as important to build loving memories and traditions that can be passed on to the next generation--as long as that next generation doesn't happen any time soon.

Remember: Goggles make a whip cream
pie in the face much more enjoyable.

*****

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

*****

Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• When I Learned to Actively Pursue Happiness.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• The Golden Rule to Everything.

When I Learned to Actively Pursue Happiness (Life Changing Moments Series)

This week's guest post for the Life Changing Moments series comes from Debbie Ridpath Ohi. I first "met" Debbie through her work on the WritersMarket.com's Market Watch column. For close to a decade, we worked together (her in Toronto, me in Ohio and then Georgia), though she posted her last news update to the site this past December. Debbie is now focusing more on her career as a writer and illustrator for children's books. For instance, she's the illustrator for I'm Bored, by Michael Ian Black (Simon & Schuster, 2012). Be sure to check out Inkygirl.com, her illustrated guide to kidlit and young adult writing and illustrating, as well as DebbieOhi.com.

Debbie Ridpath Ohi. Photo credit: Beckett Gladney.

The biggest life-changing moment for me occurred on August 6th, 1993 when the phone rang at around 1:30 a.m. A phone call in the wee hours of the morning is never a good thing but up to then, it had always been a wrong number.


This time, it was my father calling to tell me that my brother Jim and his wife Diane had been killed in a car accident.

Apparently they had been on the way to meet friends for a camping trip. According to witnesses, their car drifted left onto the median shoulder of the highway, veered right and seemed to be fine for a moment, then angled sharply left again, across the grass median and into the path of an 18-wheeler. My brother and his wife died instantly. We never found out what caused the car to lose control.

Jim and Diane on wedding day.

I know the whole "life is short" phrase has become a cliché, but the heart of those words remains true. Losing my mother a few years before the accident to cancer and seeing Jim and Diane having their lives cut short so unexpectedly (they were both only 27, married just over a year) has made me much more conscious of the choices I make in how I live.

I'm far less inclined now to just coast. I'm more willing to take risks when it comes to pursuing what I want. I'd rather dive in than cautiously dip in a toe. Sometimes things don't work out and I fail spectacularly, but only after giving it my best shot.

I actively pursue happiness instead of just hoping it happens my way. If I'm consistently unhappy about an aspect of my life, I try to change it instead of just complaining. I choose my friends instead of letting them choose me, and seek out those who inspire and motivate me.

It's so easy to take people and things for granted, especially when you've never experienced loss. Sometimes when I'm feeling upset about some minor inconvenience or slight, I'll purposely remind myself to put things in perspective.

Debbie with her sister and brother, Jim. Photo by their dad.

Not all of the changes in my life are necessarily good. I'm far less patient with certain types of people than I used to be, and some of my friendships have suffered as a result. I get especially impatient with people who waste my time or are overly passive, or who are drifting unhappily through their lives but are too scared or lazy to attempt to improve their situation.

Overall, though, that one life-changing moment years ago has set me on a path that is much more good than bad. And I'd like to think that if my brother were to peek in to see how I was living my life, he'd be pleased.

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If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

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Check out previous posts from the Life Changing Moments Series:

• Bending the Rules: Or a Poet Has to Be a Poet.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• Flying Solo: Traveling to London Alone.

Don't Censor Your Happiness: Ignore the Naysayers!

In this life, I've found there are two key emotions most people feel most of the time: Happy and Sad.

This is a happy face!

This is a sad face!

There are varying degrees of happy and sad. There are times when one person's happy makes another person sad. But generally, I think the world would be a better place if people quit censoring their happy and let it shine.

House Rules
My boys often ask me why I sing all the time and will even tell me to quit. But if there's one steady rule in the Brewer household, it's that anyone is allowed to sing--when they're not doing so maliciously (parents know when this can happen). So when I feel like singing, I sing.

If the one of the boys tries to tell another to stop singing, I quickly remind them that everyone has a right to sing. Everyone has a right to be happy and express that happiness.

Dancing Machines
I remember once driving to a park with a few friends--either to go for a run or play disc golf or something. Anyway, we had to take two cars. So one of my brothers rode with me, and we followed the other car. My brothers and I have always been big on dancing to music (and even acting out our own imaginary music videos)--even in the car. So while we were stopped at a red light, we were breaking it down to some Chemical Brothers or Wyclef or something.

When we got to the park, our friends started making fun of us. Now there's two ways we could've taken this attention: Pulled within ourselves and censored out the happy, or we could take it and dance even more the next chance we got.

You better believe I still rock it out, dance, and freestyle rap when I'm rolling in my Kia Spectra.

There's Nothing Cool About Being Miserable
One thing about this life is that there are never too many smiles. Another thing I've noticed is that smiles are contagious. If you smile regularly, people will smile regularly in return.

Now I'm no fool. I know this world has plenty of miserable people trying to erase all traces of happy from the earth. These people either don't know how to make themselves happy or believe it's not "cool" to be happy. They think it's "cool" to be serious or tough or mean or, well, whatever. If you've been led down this path, please wake up; there's still time to turn that frown upside down.

There is nothing cool about being miserable or making other people feel miserable. Cool is being happy even when you have every reason to complain. Don't censor your happiness; let it shine through in everything you do.

5 Quick Ways to Be Happy

1. Sing. Whether in public or private, whether out loud or in your head, sing the heck out of the day.
2. Dance. Again, you can do this in public or private, on the outside or keep those smooth moves on the inside. Dancing is a state of mind.
3. Smile. I'm telling you, if you smile, others around you will smile. If you don't smile, others will take you serious too.
4. Stop. And when you stop, think about what's going right in your life--even if it's just that you are alive. After all, being alive is a miracle.
5. Forgive. Forgive everyone who tries to crush your happiness, whether it's a snotty co-worker, person who honked at you for not driving 20 miles over the speed limit, or even a group of teenagers who jumped you late at night on a side street on your way home from work. Yes, I've been in all those situations, and I've found forgiveness always makes me happier than dwelling on my anger.

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Check out these other Not Bob posts and start (or keep) making the world a better place around you:

• My New Weekend Routine.
• The Golden Rule to Everything.
• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.

Waking on Christmas Morning!

Merry Christmas! Santa Claus visited last night and left a lot of goodies for the boys and Hannah. Plus, Tammy and I got some gifts for them too. Reese is at his dad's, while Ben and Jonah are with their mom, so it's just the four of us this Christmas morning.

Reese will be joining us early this afternoon, and I'll be driving up to Ohio to collect Ben and Jonah tomorrow. I can't wait to have everyone together!

I've included some pictures from this morning below, and I may add more after the other boys have their moments to open presents. But first, I want to share an older poem that I included in my first chapbook, ENTER.

Waking

Ben can't find the man
he was playing with
just a moment ago.

Jonah rolls across the floor
covered in blankets
and trying to eat
anything near his mouth.

Ben's afraid Jonah
ate his man
but Jonah's not talking--

his mouth now full.

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Christmas Tree!

Santa left Will a bike...

...and a stocking!

Mommy and Daddy got Will some presents, including...

....Darth Vader Transformer...

...and Chuck and Friends.

Obviously, he loves his bike helmet as much as (or more than) his bike.

And Daddy wasn't the only taking pics. Mommy and Hannah were too!

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Check out previous Not Bob posts to appreciate the Christmas spirit:

• The Golden Rule to Everything.
• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.
• The Meaning of Baptism for Our Family.

The Meaning of Baptism for Our Family

(Note: This post is a little different for me. While I do get personal on here, I don't normally talk much about my religion or faith--and I don't anticipate that changing anytime soon. My philosophy is that everyone has their own path to follow, and this is mine. So please read this post with an open mind and heart, or don't read it at all.)

Yesterday, I mentioned that 2011 brought a few firsts in my life. I also mentioned that another first would happen today, and here's what happened: Tammy, Reese, Will, Hannah, and I were all baptised together as a family and individually as Christians.

After being members of the Duluth First United Methodist Church for around a year now, Tammy and I decided the time was right to express our faith through baptism. As one of the sacraments given to the church by Jesus Christ, baptism is an essential to salvation for Methodists, though people are not saved by baptism alone.

Growing Up Outside the Church
I grew up outside the church with a few connections on the inside. My grandparents would take us from time to time. A couple friends across the street would bring us along a couple times while we were in elementary school. I remember going to Sunday school and then sneaking off to get candy at a nearby gas station.

As I grew older, I only seemed to move even further from God. I remember having conversations in which I argued against the possibility of God in high school. In college, I seemed to only find more ammunition in my campaign against God and Christianity in particular. I remember even thinking that organized religions were the same as faceless corporations that are riddled with greed and corruption.

Then Something Changed
My first wife has grandparents who are members of the Methodist church in Southwest Ohio. I can say with certainty that Ann and Freeman James of Lindenwald United Methodist Church played an important role in my faith journey. In fact, they still do.

They encouraged me to get out to church and invited me to attend an Alpha Course program with them that lasted 3 months. I took this course in early 2003, so it took these early seeds--when my mind and heart was open--to make me question my worldviews over the next eight years.

Or maybe I should say that even with these early seeds, it took me more than eight years to get where I am today.

So What Happened After That Course?
Within two years of taking the course, my first wife and I separated (with the intention of getting divorced), I found myself in significant debt, and I had to move into my father's house. Plus, I felt like a horrible father (because of the impending divorce) and a failure in many ways.

It's times like these that you really have to dig deep into yourself, and I found myself starting to write poetry with abandon--in a way I had not since my college days. I started running and filling my spare time with work. There were days that I felt like the world was going to end, and there were days that felt like they had unlimited potential. I was all over the place.

Around three years after the separation, Tammy and I started getting involved. Much like myself, she'd grown up around but not exactly in the Baptist church. Neither of us had been baptised or attended with any regularity.

Then Things Got Serious
Actually, that's an inside joke between Tammy and I, but we did get serious enough to meet each other in Ohio (where I lived) and Georgia (where she lived)--and Tennessee (where my grandma lives). When we met in Tennessee, we went to my grandma's little Baptist church next to the lake, and we've been there a few times since.

When we decided to get married on 8/8/08, we asked my grandma's boyfriend to marry us (and last year, he married my brother David and my sister-in-law) in Tennessee. He had a talk with us before and after the ceremony about the faith element involved in marriage, and I think that meant a lot to both of us.

Will dressed for his baptism.

So over the next couple years, Tammy and I talked about checking out a church, but it's scary. Especially for me, I almost felt like it was too late for me to join a church, because I wasn't baptised. Though part of my brain knew this was wrong, another part just felt like I had to be raised in the church to be a part of the church.

Duluth First United Methodist Church
I first started going to DFUMC on Monday nights--not for church, but for Cub Scouts. Last year, Reese started Cub Scouts, and I volunteered to be the den leader for Den 2 of Pack 420. I'm on my second year now, and it's been a fun experience. But it was this initial involvement with the church building that eventually prompted Tammy and I to try attending a few services.

It didn't take long for Tammy and I to decide that we liked the atmosphere, the people, and the leaders of DFUMC. One thing I appreciate about the Methodist church in general is that it's very open and inclusive. This church in particular seemed (and still seems) even more so. So we joined the church last December.

Hannah excited for her baptism too!

Since we've been members, we've continued with Cub Scouts; we took a United Methodism 101 course that helped us learn more about the history, beliefs, and structure of the Methodist church; we enrolled Will in a Christian Beginnings preschool class (which he loves!); and this morning, we were baptised!

We've had a great year of growth as a family and as Christians, and we intend to continue our development together as a family. Baptism is only one rung in the ladder, but it's an important enough one that I felt it was worth sharing.

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Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.
• My New Weekend Routine.
• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.

My 2011 Decembeard

After the success of the Movember post from last month, which captured my moustache through the month, I thought it might be fun to keep that up throughout the next year. As many people who see me in person can attest, my appearance often changes. One month, I might be wearing contacts with a fully shaved head. Another month, I may have a beard and hair over my eyes, which are hidden behind glasses.

So, let the spectacle begin.

Day 31. No Movember, no moustache. Or hair apparently.

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Plus, check out previous Not Bob posts:

• My Movember 2011.
• My New Weekend Routine.
• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.

What Happens When Thanksgiving Plans Are Blown Up

Some of you may have noticed a slight decrease in posting the past few days. That's about the only thing that's gone according to plan for me this week of the turkey.

Getting a Christmas tree was about all that went to plan this week.

Now, don't get me wrong. I had an excellent week filled with food, family, and tradition. However, most everything happened in a different way than I expected.

The Original Plan

• Thursday (11/17): Drive up to Ohio, possibly stop in at the new Cincy office, and stay the night at my grandfather's house.
• Friday (11/18): Go in to work at new Cincy office before having off-site meeting. Then, pick up my Ohio boys (Ben and Jonah) to head down to Georgia.
• Saturday (11/19): Have fun!
• Sunday (11/20): Go to church before Foster family Thanksgiving (done in advance).
• Monday (11/21): PTO day. Have fun!
• Tuesday (11/22): Pack for trip to Ohio for Brewer family Thanksgiving.
• Wednesday (11/23): Hit road for Ohio in early morning hours. When in Ohio, get groceries for Thanksgiving.
• Thursday (11/24): Brewer family Thanksgiving extravaganza!
• Friday (11/25): Visit National Museum of the US Air Force in Dayton, Ohio.
• Saturday (11/26): Take Ben and Jonah to their home before joining my brothers to watch the Ohio State-Michigan game, then head back to Georgia with Tammy, Reese, Will, and Hannah.
• Sunday (11/27): Go to church and get a Christmas tree to decorate.

What Happened...
The first change in schedule was actually a nice surprise. The Friday meeting was cancelled, which did a few things. First, it allowed me to get more actual work done before taking my PTO. Second, it allowed Ben and Jonah time to attend their cousins' (Noah and Preston) birthday party on Saturday afternoon while I drove up from Georgia during the day. Third, it gave Ben and Jonah a little extra time to fully recover from a stomach bug they suffered through earlier in the week. Win-win-win!

The one downside of this change is that we didn't make it in until very early on Sunday morning, so we were too exhausted to make it into church on that morning. That was a bummer, but we still made it to the Foster family Thanksgiving at my father-in-law's house. Great food and times! Plus, my mother-in-law offered to take Ben, Jonah, and Reese out (with their cousin Sean) to watch a movie, which helped open up time for me to pack for Ohio. Score!

The only thing that I thought could go wrong is that my brother Simon, the storm chaser, might not make it in time. He has a big heart, but he's not the most reliable person, especially when it comes to dealing with time. He's always at least a day later than he says. He agreed to help us get everyone up to Ohio without Tammy and I having to use both our cars, so I gave him a call on Sunday, and he said he'd be over on Monday or Tuesday. Good enough.

My brother Simon, the storm chaser, has a big heart...and axes.

On Monday, the boys and I had fun playing board games and such. We even got out to Chick-Fil-A so the boys could eat some nuggets and fries and run themselves ragged on the indoor playground. On Tuesday, we did some of the same. Plus, the older boys got out with their grandma and cousin to watch Puss in Boots.

Also on Tuesday, I called Simon in the morning to just ask when he thought he might be heading over. After all, the plan was to leave at 5 a.m. on Wednesday morning. He said he wasn't sure, but he was just going to help hang some Christmas lights and be over. Around 5 p.m., I was getting a little anxious (because it's a 4-hour drive), so I just called to check on him. "Taking a shower, then hitting the road. Don't worry." Around 8 p.m.--worried--I call again. "I'm packing up my car. Then, I'll be on my way." So yeah, like 9 p.m., he finally gives me a call that he's leaving. Sigh.

As needlessly frustrating as that situation turned out to be, I started to relax some. Simon wasn't going to make it over until Wednesday, but at least it would be before 5 a.m. That meant we'd at least be able to get up to Ohio at a decent time to do all our Thanksgiving grocery shopping. Everything from here on out would go according to plan, right?

Not So Fast...
Between 9 p.m. (when Simon left the Knoxville area) and 1 a.m. (when Simon arrived in the ATL area), Will puked not once but twice. Then, he puked again between 1 a.m. and 5 a.m., and Reese puked a few times for good measure. Apparently, the stomach bug Ben and Jonah had survived in Ohio struck in Georgia.

Tammy and I were forced to make a hard decision to send Simon up to Ohio by himself. Boy, did I feel bad about get frustrated with him about not showing up at a decent time only to make him drive down to Georgia for nothing. Plus, we were going to miss out on the first big Brewer family get together in a few years (one that I put some effort into helping organize too). Oh well, these things happen.

The bug passed quickly in both Will and Reese, and we had a great day on Wednesday despite it all. Plus, we got way too much food for our big Thanksgiving feast. It would still be a Brewer Thanksgiving--just a smaller sample size.

Thanksgiving
Tammy and I worked together to cook a ham, make fried taters, a Jello-strawberry-cream cheese-pretzel "salad," corn pudding, sweet potatoes (with marshmallows), stuffing, pie, and more by exactly noon. We all gathered around two tables slid together, held hands and prayed. Then, we all started eating until our bellies were beyond full.

Takes more than a stomach bug to keep us down on Thanksgiving!

After a little cleaning and lounging, we got out to a park before heading over to Tammy's mom's house (like me, her parents are divorced and re-married) for a Thanksgiving get together. From her mom's house, we continued our annual tradition of watching the tree lighting in the Lawrenceville square. Then, we booked it home in time for the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special. Life was great.

For the bedtime movie, Tammy and I decided to let the boys watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Sure, it's rated R, but that's really only for one specific scene, and it's not like they don't all already know that word. The boys loved the movie (a rare Thanksgiving movie), but they all fell asleep before the end, which was a good thing, because...

As The Movie Ended...
Tammy let me know that she now had the stomach bug the boys all carried. Then, we discovered that Hannah--without fussing at all--had puked too. Suddenly, it was almost midnight on Thanksgiving, and I was the only one to not experience this stomach bug. I felt like a marked man and was sure my time would come soon enough. Around 4 a.m. on Friday morning, it did.

Tammy and I suffered a great deal with this stomach bug on Friday. Kids seem to churn through these things in hours; parents work in days. Tammy and I could barely do anything all day, so with four boys and a baby girl in the house that surely spelled disaster, right? Surprisingly, no.

I'd have to say that Friday (11/25/11) will always be one of the days that I feel most proud of my boys. When I had trouble getting out of bed, they said they understood. If I heard one of them start to argue, I could hear the others start to make peace (instead of the usual fights). When it became obvious we wouldn't be able to get out and cut down a Christmas tree like we planned, none of them complained and said they understood. There were a ton of "I love you, Dad"s and they even asked if I needed anything throughout the day. I felt so bad that I was sick on Ben and Jonah's last day in Georgia, but I was also so proud of them. They really rose to the occasion.

Then Saturday...
I woke up early and hit the road with Ben and Jonah. We made great time up to Ohio. I dropped them off with their mom and headed back to Georgia. Since I was popping ibuprofen and Imodium AD, nothing too dramatic happened during the trip--and I actually made record time for me (only 18 hours!).

On Sunday...
We finally did something according to the Original Plan. We went to church and got a Christmas tree to decorate. Then, we decorated the tree while watching Christmas movies and shows we own on DVD. And so ends another Thanksgiving week.

I know I already had a thankful post this week, but I just want to really emphasize how lucky, blessed, and thankful I feel every day to have such an amazing wife, incredible boys (all four of them), and precious little girl (Hannah). Even when our plans are blown to smithereens, we find ways to make the most of what we got, and that's truly wonderful to experience.

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Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.
• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.
• The Golden Rule to Everything.