You Heard it Here First: Press Release It's Time to ROCK YOUR BOTTOM!

Rock Your Bottom Concert:

A Free Family Event for a Cause

New Jersey, September 17th, 2010 —  A Life Unexpected, in volunteer partnership with The National Latina Health Network and Preschool of Rock, is proud to announce a fun, FREE family concert to benefit the  Community Food Bank of New Jersey, in support of the Huggies® Every Little Bottom Campaign. 

In 2010, a study commissioned by Huggies and Kimberly Clark showed that mothers are making choices between diapers and other necessities when they can't afford both. This study showed that one out of every three mothers in America has, at one point, struggled with diaper need, which is the struggle to provide babies with a basic need - diapers. Moms struggling with diaper need run out of clean diapers monthly or more often. Babies may be kept in wet, dirty diapers for extended periods of time or, in more extreme cases, made to wear used diapers which have been cleaned or dried out. Forty-three percent of mothers struggling with diaper need say they need 14 or more extra diapers per week to feel they have enough. Yet there is little help for these mothers and babies as many community-based organizations don't provide diapers.

After learning about the impact and prevalence of diaper need, Jason Maikos, the primary author behind the popular Old Bridge, New Jersey-based blog, “A Life Unexpected”, offered to lend his time and talent to support the National Latina Health Network’s local diaper drive efforts. A Biomedical Engineer who was laid-off due to corporate down-sizing in August 2009, Maikos has been blogging about his experience as a well-educated husband/father navigating the waters of a tumultuous economy. In his blog, Maikos writes,

            “Despite all of our concessions, we’ve been relatively fortunate. We could always provide food and a comfortable, safe environment for our family. …Many families have sacrificed basic necessities, such as food, electricity, and even shelter. One of the most over-looked sacrifices is diapers. When families have to choose between food, rent, electricity, or diapers, they are forced to cutback on this basic child necessity.”

Thinking strategically about how he can help New Jersey families struggling with diaper need, Maikos contacted Michael Napolitano, the founder of the Preschool of Rock, who readily agreed to support the cause.  Preschool of Rock’s original music, infectious energy and understanding of children brings happiness to tons of families in New Jersey and New York. “We give our students a moment to embrace, celebrate and create music in a fun and free atmosphere. We encourage investigation, discovery and creativity with different instruments, dancing, singing, drumming, strumming and lots of laughing out loud,” said Napolitano.  With Preschool of Rock on the stage, the Rock Your Bottom Concert is sure to provide attendees with an opportunity to celebrate life and community.

To reserve your spot go to: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/rockyourbottom
Registration is quick and simple. 

Attendees are encouraged to donate an unopened package of diapers of any size to support the cause. It doesn’t have to be much (and it doesn't have to be Huggies) because every diaper helps. Of course, large boxes will be greatly appreciated as well.

Rock Your Bottom Concert hopes to contribute over 2,500 diapers to New Jersey families. All contributions will be donated to the Community Food Bank of New Jersey which distributes over 23 million pounds of food and groceries a year, ultimately serving 1,656 non-profit programs including 436 programs served by its Partner Distribution Organizations (PDOs). Through their combined efforts, they assist three-quarters of a million low-income people in 18 of New Jersey’s 21 counties.

Rock Your Bottom Concert is being facilitated in part by the leadership of the National Latina Health Network.  As a national partner in the Huggies ® Every Little Bottom campaign, the network is partnering with individuals and organizations across the country to increase awareness about the prevalence and impact of diaper deprivation and to help facilitate the implementation of diaper drives across the country.

Event details:

Date:               November 6, 2010

Time:              3:30 – 5:00 pm

Location:        Community Food Bank of New Jersey

                        31 Evans Terminal

                        Hillside, NJ 07205

Cost:               Rock Your Bottom Concert is FREE.  However, attendees are encouraged to donate an unopened package of diapers of any size to support the cause. All diapers will be donated to the Community Food Bank of New Jersey as part of the Huggies® Every Little Bottom Campaign.

To register:    http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/rockyourbottom

Contact:          alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com

Share

Tweet

On the Road to Responsibility, a Job and Dignity

During my channel surfing yesterday, I happened to catch a news clip covering the acceptance speech of a gubernatorial primary winner. His speech was largely about envisioning a New York that he can restore to past prominence. Naturally, he spoke to the woes of unemployment and helping those without jobs return to the workforce. In his speech, he said, “I see a New York where people who are down on their luck can get back on the road to responsibility, a job, and dignity.”

It saddens me to hear a potential leader of a powerful and progressive state suggest that the unemployed do not have a sense of responsibility or dignity because they don’t have a job. I understand his message was meant to inspire – to show he has some magical fix for a major problem. However, his judgments about dignity and responsibility paint a broad stroke that our self-respect is tied to our business cards.   

As I’ve written before, as an unemployed person, I have struggled with issues of self-worth and the fact that identities are linked to a job. However, during my time on unemployment, I have changed my perspective on life. My priorities have shifted.

• I am not my job.
• My sense of dignity is linked to my actions, not my employment.
• I gain my sense of responsibility from raising my son to be a good person.
• I strive to create a meaningful life for myself and my family.

During my unemployment I have tried to live an intentional life. I have tried to find the light during the darkest hours. I have attempted to provide optimism for those struggling and I have helped mobilize a community to aid those in need. We received such a tremendous response to our diaper drive that we are currently planning a second, much larger and impactful event. These are the things that help instill pride, a sense of community, and a responsibility to something greater. It’s what I do with my time that defines me.

When I return to work, my job will not consume my identity. My self-worth will be derived from so much more. My hope is to have a meaningful job that is in line with my core values of love and family. Jobs will come and go…but my dignity will not vanish and reappear with each passing position.

I’ve learned a lot about pride, responsibility, and my life’s purpose while unemployed. I’m a changed man with different priorities. I’m thinking of inviting the above-mentioned politician to my next philanthropic event. If he doesn’t win the election, he might find himself struggling with a crisis of identity and loss of dignity.

Share

Tweet

Tantrums: A Different Perspective

I originally wrote the contents of this entry as a response to the post below. But…my husband asked me to make it an entry, and well...ironically, today was a day in which I really felt like partaking in my very own tantrum. Admittedly, when I had the house to myself for a few moments, I did just that. A good scream. A few tears. A war against my hardwood floors with the vacuum and mop. Afterwards, I felt better, but not as good as I felt after a nice glass of wine and a surprise dinner of sushi from my comforting husband!

***

Here's a little secret about this Mama: I often feel like waging my own tantrums - to clench my fists in a terrific fit of tears and screams. Sometimes, over small things like cold coffee or another pile of dishes in the sink. Sometimes over big things like financial uncertainty and social injustice.

When my son is deep in the throws of a tantrum, I am reminded of our similarities. He is scared, frustrated, and unsure of his ability to control himself and the world around him. He and I are feeling similar things; he just hasn't been conditioned to control his response.

I'm a little envious of his ability to blow off the steam - to just get it out until he falls in a heap of exhausted boy mush. But...I also feel for him. I understand that this is just the beginning. Today he is frustrated because his train tracks keep coming apart. When he gets older, he will endure a broken heart, a lost love, a dissolving dream.

When I am intentional and empathetic in my response to his tantrums, I find that we connect on a deeper level. My compassion drives my reaction. I am able to control my frustrations and act with more patience. I am able to see my boy as a small person who is finding his way through a world of confusing rules and mixed-messages.

When I can control myself in the midst of his tantrum, I can see beauty in his freedom to rage and sadness in the reality that this is just the beginning.

Share

Tweet

Does Practice Really Make Perfect?

Raising a child is rewarding. It is also equally as difficult. Lessons of patience, understanding, and tolerance are a part of our daily experience – both for toddlers and parents. I answer the question, “Why?” as if it were on a constant repeat. I survive multiple tantrums each day (sometimes all day). I struggle with potty training. As I spend my days with my son, I can plan for quality time, but even the best laid blueprints are fallible. Tantrums can ruin a good lunch. Fighting over a dump truck can end a nice day at the pool. “Quality” is often lost amidst the chaos of toddler unpredictability.

As an unemployed person, it is easy to let each day blend into the next with no real structure. Time can slip by in a muted blur. One day. One month. One year. All unemployed. The one thing driving me each day is my desire to maximize my quality time with my son while I have it.

I’ve been told “practice makes perfect” a million times in my life. It was drilled into my head as a kid – playing sports, studying for tests. Now, as an adult, I’ve tried to apply a new twist to the old adage. If I “practice” things with my son (like sharing), it can lead to more quality time together. Hence, quantity can lead to quality.

Through my life I’ve learned, however, it is too simplistic to say that practice makes perfect. If I practice bad habits, I develop bad habits. If I practice them enough, I get really good at them. Thus, it is not enough to just be with my son. I need to be more then just…there.

The reality is that there are times when we just “go through the motions”, letting time just pass. We’ve all done it before – at work, at the gym, even with our kids. We squander opportunities. Today, I witnessed a mom at the local pool who sat and read a book, instead of interacting with her toddler who was swimming in the water…alone. Did it matter that she was even there? When I take a good look at my life, I am extremely fortunate to be a “stay at home dad” and spend a lot of time with my son. But, am I a good dad just because I am there?

For me, simply being present is not synonymous with “quality”. It is important for me to be intentional with my son. I want my actions to have true meaning for him. I want to be in the moment with my son. I know his mood is unpredictable. I know he will have tantrums that can interrupt quality time. I know he will fight with his friends over toys. However, if I treat every moment as a teaching moment, to let him learn about life, right from wrong, good from bad, then I believe that he can develop into a remarkable person. Because it’s not that practice makes perfect, but rather perfect practice makes perfect, it follows that productive quantity can lead to quality.

But…in the end, as I sift through my thoughts about the time I spend with my son, it no longer becomes about quality over quantity. If I choose to be truly intentional with our time together (no mater how long or short) and live in the moment with my son, all our time together becomes quality…even if he’s throwing a tantrum.

Share

Tweet

2 Years, 8 Months, 30 Days

November 2007 was the last time we went on vacation. Actually, it can be more accurately described as a babymoon since my wife was 5 months pregnant. At the time, we assumed this vacation would be our last for awhile. Because I had finally finished graduate school (and vacations can be less than relaxing with a newborn), it was a good time to start saving for our future. We never thought, however, that our next vacation would be almost 3 years later.

Vacations were never a priority for my childhood. We rarely just went away to experience a new place. I do remember visiting family friends in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. However, most of our summer vacations consisted of traveling to my sister’s softball tournaments across the country.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate peaceful (even restful) vacations that allow for time away from the stresses of life. It doesn’t even matter where I spend my time - I could enjoy a vacation in my own house. But, since my son was born, my wife and I have really tried to let our son experience the world – to let him know that life exists outside of New Jersey. Even if he doesn’t fully grasp our time together on vacation, we were still making memories as a family. We will remember his excitement as he witnessed things for the first time.

However, it became difficult to balance the need/desire for a vacation and the uncertainty of working for a fledgling company. It was never the “right time” to go on a vacation when in the background there was a constant looming fear of unemployment. And then finally, when my company officially went under, providing for our basic necessities became a much higher priority than taking a vacation.

But, after a year of unemployment, I came to the realization that there will never be the “right time” to take vacation. My son, at almost 2.5, had never been on vacation. As his parents, we owe him the opportunity to witness the world and participate in life outside of our home. Furthermore, it was important for me to give my wife the opportunity to enjoy time as a family. As the only working parent for a grant funded non-profit, her days are often spent trying to solidify her professional future in an uncertain economy. While, I’m off daily with my son enjoying our adventures, she’s working diligently at home only getting to enjoy her time with my son and I in short snippets. Thus, it was important for me to let us spend time together, uninterrupted.

The challenge for us became finding an affordable vacation on a one-income household. Combining our desire for peace with our need to explore, we decided to rent a house on a lake in the Poconos. It was a perfect vacation spot to spend some quality time as a family, including our dogs. It was a simple vacation that allowed my son to explore nature, make his first s’mores on a campfire, and learn how to row a canoe. It was too short, as most vacations are, but we made life-long memories and have a ton of pictures to remember them by (614 pictures, to be exact!).

Share

Tweet

I get...an opportunity for change.

I want to thank my wife again for her inspiring words. In such a fragile economy, it’s easy to lose perspective and look at life negatively. It often becomes a downward spiral that we continue to feed – consciously or subconsciously.

Negativity is promoted everywhere. It’s evident in Facebook and Twitter status updates. The newspaper and nightly news broadcast horrifying stories. Commercials condition us to believe that we will get every disease unless we consult a physician about a new drug.

Even some of our most popular television shows are shrouded in negativity. These shows are so interesting to us because collectively we identify with the deeply flawed characters. Who doesn’t have a stressful life, or work-related problems, or not enough money? We even build up our real-life heroes into immortal role models, watch as they crumble under scandal, and then root for second chances. Why? Because we identify with their humanity. But, does “humanity” need to be synonymous with negativity?

I want to heed my wife’s words and put them into action – to really try to change the collective perception that life is a constant uphill battle.

I once read that the most powerful word anyone can say is the word “I”. Simply put, no person in the world can say the word “I” for you.

I am stressed.

I underachieve.

I am not wealthy enough.

I am not smart enough.

I probably use some of these phrases daily. But, why should I allow myself to feel that way? In reality, what I choose to put my emphasis on is what I am. If I say these things, I become these things.

If I want to change my reality and ultimately my perception of life, there’s a simple solution. I am committing to following the word “I” with something positive…always. This simple change can adjust my mindset:

I am motivated.

I am a loving husband and father.

I can help people.

I am happy.

If I can make this one simple change, even if I force it at first, I can create a better reality for myself and my family.

****

My sister recently sent me an article by Kristin Armstrong, a noted runner and author. As she was finishing up a hard run while training, she was struggling to get up that one last steep hill. As she was climbing that hill, she thought about all those people who don’t have the ability or opportunity to run that hill. Her change in attitude about the hill resulted in a shift in her overall perception. Instead of thinking, I have to run up that hill, she decided to think, “I get to run up that hill”. It’s a simple one word change, but it’s a dramatic shift in perception. She tried to apply her new mantra to everything in her life. She even passed it along to her peers.

We all have things we have to do. I have to wake up early with my son. I have to take my dogs for walk. I have to eat healthier. Kristin Armstrong’s point is simple. If we view life as an opportunity, we can create a more positive reality.

This behavior is contagious. At a recent race, Kristin noticed people wearing t-shirts that read:

I get to run today.

Once we change our habits that enable and empower negativity, we can replace those practices with productive ones. In a day, a week, a month, it can become commonplace – our new mantra.

Like those runners, as I think about my metaphorical t-shirt, it would read:

I get to be with my son today.

I implore every single person who is reading these words to leave a comment and tell me what your t-shirt would say. It won’t take much time and it doesn’t take much effort. Even if you think this is an exercise in futility, we can still carve out, at the very least, our own positive nook in this very tiny section of the world. So, tell me...what would your t-shirt say?

Share

A Chance Encounter

I was sitting in a dank waiting room waiting for my name to be called. The room had no windows; there was no natural light. The fluorescent ceiling lights flickered above. The irony of room decor – posters about getting help for depression - was not lost on me. I sensed a certain feeling of dread in the room. No one wanted to be there. There was no eye contact for fear of striking up an unnecessary conversation. This must have been an ‘unspoken’ rule of the room. There was a faint buzzing sound that filled the room.

I had been waiting for about 30 minutes. It seemed like a long time to wait. The people were a blur to me, being herded into and out of the room. I just sat there with my head in my chest, following the rules - not making eye contact and no conversations. A surly receptionist sat at the front of the room spelling last names out loud instead of trying to pronounce them. It was hard to follow. I jumped every time he spoke a letter in my name praying to just get out of there. He looked discontented, like he was inconvenienced to even be there. I guess this was his job.

I decided to be daring and approach the surly receptionist to ask how much longer. He barely glanced at me. He was short with his non-committal answer, almost pretending I wasn’t even there. I retreated back to my seat, which was now occupied by someone else. Where did this guy even come from? Was he scouting out my chair while I was sitting there? Did I miss a memo about assigned seats? That was my chair! I sat in the next seat and waited, not daring to move again. I couldn’t lose this seat too.

There was a woman next to the surly receptionist who didn’t seem to do anything. She was just taking up space. She pretended to be busy. I can tell when people are pretending to be busy. There was a sudden influx of people who flooded the waiting room. They needed to be checked in. I don’t think they knew the rules of the room – one person was on a cell phone. The surly receptionist became quickly overwhelmed. Perhaps he didn’t like the rule violation. Multitasking was also not his strong suit. The woman next to him decided to help, probably because he became flustered. The surly receptionist didn’t appreciate her help. Apparently this was not her job.

As the line eventually thinned, the surly receptionist struck an argument with the woman next to him. It was loud enough to drown out the buzzing sound, yet no one in the waiting even looked at them. Was I the only one who thought that this was inappropriate? I was in a surreal dream of mundane cruelty. Maybe I could just wake up. I was about to.

A large unkempt man with a bushy beard and tattered clothes walked into the room. He looked homeless. In fact, most people in this waiting room looked homeless. Something was different about this unkempt man. He was smiling. That certainly wasn’t allowed. As he approached the check in, the surly receptionist and the woman stopped arguing. They both anguished to smile, still reeling from their argument. It seemed like their facial muscles had lost the memory of this foreign action, but I swear I saw it.

The unkempt man knew them both. He had been here before. They politely chatted, exchanging the usual pleasantries. Was this even allowed? I felt a slight change in the atmosphere.

As the man finished chatting with the receptionist, he started to walk in my direction. I didn’t make eye contact as he approached me. After all, this was a rule of the room. He’s been here before, so he must know that. He settled on the seat in front of me. He immediately turned and smiled. Was he testing me? I’m not the most personable of people, but I cracked a quick smile and turned my head. I’d broken the rules and was waiting to be reprimanded.

“It’s a good day”, he said, being persistent. I nodded my head, not knowing if I was allowed to speak. It was one thing to make eye contact briefly, but to speak must have been a capital crime.

“This place saved my life”, he quickly added. “I was given less than a year to live. That was five years ago.”

I was intrigued. Damn the rules, my curiosity got the best of me. We started talking. I think everyone was listening to us. Five years ago he got sick. He was dying. After a battery of tests, doctors told him he needed a risky heart surgery to repair a faulty aorta. Without the surgery, he was given a grim prognosis – he was certain to die within a year. What choice did he have? Soon thereafter, he chose the risky surgery to put in a mechanical heart valve. Five years later, he’s sitting in front of me in this room.

The man will be on blood thinners for life for fear of an embolized clot that could lodge in his lungs. He will have future valve replacement surgeries within the next few years since the mechanical valve has a shelf life. None of this mattered to him.

He was alive…and happy. Life had given him a second chance and he was thankful for every day that his manufactured heart valve continued to do its job. And that’s what he chose to focus on. He didn’t fit with the spirit of this room. He didn’t mind waiting in the dank room with the flickering lights for his monthly tests. He even somehow infected the surly receptionist with optimism – or at least selective optimism. These details of his “new” life were all trivial. He was simply happy to be alive.

Just like that, my name was called – actually spelled. At that point I wished they had forgotten me. This was more important. My conversation with the man came to an abrupt end. He wished me luck as I parted through the waiting room doors. I didn’t even get his name. But, it didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know his name. I needed his message. The impact of his words left a lasting impression on my brain.

Life is hard – clearly harder on some then others. I can choose to let my unemployment define me – to feel like a failure at the numerous rejections of job hunting. In fact, it would be easy blame the economy or poor management. It would even be understandable.

Or, I can define my own course through life. I can choose to be thankful that I get to spend all day with the people that matter most. I can appreciate that I get to see my son grow into a little boy. I can dream of the life that we have – simple, honest, and pure. Sometimes we just need a little jolt to remember what is important.

As I finished my appointment, I happened to walk past that same waiting room. It was empty, so the surly receptionist was in the hallway. He looked at me and asked, “Did you get what you needed?”

I made eye contact and answered him:

“I got exactly what I needed.”

Share

Mamas and Papas

I just boarded “Thomas” and kissed my boys good-bye for five days. Five days. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I’m already crossing them off of my mental calendar, the way I used to as the end of the school year approached, or the holidays drew near. Today is day one.

It’s never easy to leave my family, but I try to focus on the positives:

• For the next few days the only person I have to feed, clothe and put to bed is myself.
• I don’t have to make my own bed or fold my towels.
• I am still passionate about my career and realize that if I have to spend time away from the people I love, I am blessed to spend that time doing work that I love.
• Most importantly, after this week, I’m on vacation for 10 days! We’re not going anywhere and we have no concrete plans, but spending all that uninterrupted time with my family sounds perfect!
  
  

While I’m away, predictably, well-meaning colleagues will ask about my son. I’ll tell them he’s great – he’s smart, funny and perceptive! Then they’ll ask, “Who’s caring for him while you’re gone?” I will say, “My husband!”

The response often includes something similar to, “Wow! You think you’re husband can handle that for five days?!” To which I respond, “Um….yes, my husband can certainly handle it – in fact, he can handle it better than I could!”

The reality, however, is that this week will not be without challenges! It’s likely that my husband will take my son out to eat this week. It is also likely that the restaurant will not have a changing station in the men's room. It’s also possible that my husband will want to take my son to story time at a local bookstore or library. It is also pretty possible that the story time will be called, “Mommy and Me”.

So, while I’m working to positively influence the socio-cultural norms that continue to influence women's lives, my husband will spend his week being influenced by the gender biases that continue to negate the power and influence of fathers. I will be on Capitol Hill with fifteen young women, discussing the impact of health policy on women and mothers and my husband will be home, fighting a grassroots battle to shift expectations and assumptions about family roles and, more specifically, the role of the father and husband.

And….secretly, I will struggle with my own internal conflicts – those of my identities as a mother, wife, and professional. But, after a moment of emotional torment, I will take a step back. I know that these identities are fluid – always changing and evolving and trying to challenge a world that says that I cannot have it all – that I cannot be all of these things. I just don’t buy it. When I look at my family – joyful and grounded, respectful and appreciative – I see a world of possibilities. We define the terms that shape our identities.

I am a woman. To break that down into more specific categories is a daunting task, as I am many things and on any given day, one part of that identity may be more prominent or influential than the others.

This week, one part of me is a mama that will live in envy of the fun my family will have without me. I will miss smooches and giggles and big books about trains (or spiders…or dogs…or ocean animals). I will crave little boy cuddles and big belly laughs. I will miss my husband, who always provides perspective when I’m feeling overwhelmed or conflicted.

But, I will not worry. My family is in very capable hands - the hands of a man who is generous, patient, funny and strong - a man who won’t allow a tiny detail like the absence of a changing station in the men’s room or the name of a class deter him from embracing the part of his identity known as, “Dad”.

Happy Father's Day!

Time to Take Action - an open invitation to all!

I want to thank my wife for her inspiring and meaningful words. They speak volumes to many of us, who struggle with expectations in life. It takes courage to break down accepted social norms and pave new paths based on sincere thought, emotion, and reasoning. This is how she lives her life. The most pioneering people have always challenged the accepted way and pushed for change. Perhaps I should listen to her more often!

This past weekend, I had the privilege of being the best man in my best friend’s wedding. As he and his (soon-to-be) wife stood at the alter ready to devote their lives to one other, the Priest delivered a very powerful message that echoed my wife’s sentiments. He stated that the two most important acts in life are committing yourself to another and creating life. His take home message was simple: life and love are sacred - all else is superficial.

Of course his message may have been an over-simplification of life, but it still rings true. As I look back through my life, my happiest moments are all derived from the love of my family. Many of these times have been while I’ve been unemployed. My true happiness doesn’t come from a job or the money I earn. A job may provide a certain sense of satisfaction or accomplishment. It may even instill some pride. But, can’t I get those things elsewhere? Money doesn’t change the most important and fundamental aspects of life – love and family. At the end of the day, that’s all we have. What good are the extras in life if we can’t enjoy them with the people we love most?

It’s been said that a job is considered a way to earn a living. But, is that what we are doing? Do we earn life by working? For me, the answer is obvious. I don’t need a job to earn a living. I appreciate the intangibles. I love my family. This is how I “earn a living”. For many of us, we take jobs that pull us away from our lives. We sit in traffic. We get frustrated by coworkers. We are under-appreciated by our bosses. A job is no way to earn a living. It is merely a means to a living.

One day soon I will go back to work and I will have to reconcile my struggle. I will need to balance my job and my family. My true happiness will suffer. It shouldn’t be that way. As my wife said, I shouldn’t have to cram my life into nights and weekends. The best trick I can pull is to carve out a new norm that allows me pursue a career in line with my values.

Until that time, I want to embrace the moments of my true happiness. I implore all of you to do the same. This is our chance. It’s time to take action and start something. For everyone reading this, let’s start slow and simple. Together, let’s venture back to that place where our job was to play in the summer sun and run through the sprinklers – let’s set up a playdate next week with our kids! Here’s an open invitation for everyone reading this. Let’s get together and spend time embracing these moments of LIFE with our families!

I know of a great place (in Central Jersey) that’s fun and most importantly FREE! I especially invite my unemployed readers and stay at home parents. If you have a job, take a vacation or sick day - play hooky and join us! Invite your friends. The time is now.

For those interested in attending, send me an email (alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com) and I will add you to the evite. Details will be included.

I look forward to seeing you then!

Second Chances

Second chances can be an obscure commodity. When given a second chance, even if it is shrouded in uncertainty and fear, I can choose to dwell on my unfortunate circumstance and wonder “why me?”, or I can make the most of this opportunity to do something great.

I’ve heard it a million times, “It could always be worse”. In fact, it’s something I hear on a daily basis. I’m not even sure what that really means. Of course it could be worse. In reality, no matter what is going on in your life, someone will always have it worse. However, it doesn’t minimize the impact my current situation has on my life. The fact that somebody has it worse than me shouldn’t invalidate my feelings. I can, however, gain some perspective.

Life is hard…some days more than others. As humans, we are constantly in search of things that we can control. We desire control. Chaos ensues without control. But here’s the bad news…we can’t control it all, or even much of it. So, why not embrace the things we can control?

The best I can do is value the good times…and survive the bad. I can safely say that my life has been fairly cyclical. It pours…a lot (lately). Then it stops. And it gets better. I am constantly humbled by life. I hear the tale of the couple who both lost their jobs. I hear stories of sick children. I hear of people losing it all every day. It hurts my heart. But, I gain perspective. When I hear these stories, I can’t even imagine a life with so many struggles, yet none of these stories minimize the current impact of my struggles on my life.

Today, I blurted out that damn cliché. It was just filler for an awkward pause in a seemingly normal conversation. I didn’t even really mean it. Instead of the usual response of, “that’s true”, today I was called on it. I was told, “It doesn’t have to be worse for you”.

I wasn’t expecting that…

It resonated with me because it was true. It doesn’t have to be worse…it doesn’t even have to be whatever this is. I can do something…anything. I may not have control over my employment opportunities, but I have control over my life and what I choose to do with it. I have a second chance to truly embrace something more important than my job. I can be great for my son.

Before being laid off the first time, I tried to maximize my time with son. This usually occurred during the hour or so before his bedtime and on weekends. It was never enough. When I lost my job, I was given the amazing opportunity to stay at home with my son – to have a truly great impact on his life. And I think that I did. Viewing life through the eyes of a 1-year old is a gift - one that I got to live daily. However, my unemployment was always in the back of my head as a constant reminder of my shortcomings. It consumed me at times. When I finally went back to work, it was too late to live in the moment with him. I missed what I had.

This is what most people don’t understand. When I get a job again, I will be congratulated on my resolve and told my persistence paid off. But, by going back to work, I will lose something more. The sad part is, this time I already know it. It’s a silent, often misunderstood struggle that I don’t think I will ever balance.

So, that’s where I’m at. My employment may be uncertain and I may be filled with “professional” self-doubt. But today, I choose not to dwell on my misery. This time around I can appreciate the moments as they happen. I know it won’t last forever, but until that day, I get to enjoy things like this:

It may not seem like much, but doing arts and crafts with my son as his mind absorbs everything, is priceless to me…and his mom. My time with my son is unmatched.

I will continue to hear woeful stories of loss and I will continue to sympathize. Someone will always have it worse. One day, perhaps I can help…or maybe I can’t. Perhaps, the least I can offer is some solace in my words.