Several years ago a couple of my high school students came to me and introduced me to National Novel Writing Month. The name is misleading since people from all over the world participate. The goal is that for the month of November you write 50,000 words. That is about 1,666 words a day. Everyday.
Of course I thought this terrible idea was a wonderful idea.
I invited all my students to join us. I even created Gaboury's Novel Writing Month which is to write 8,000 words. Between NaNo and GaNo we have classtimes filled with talk about writing...from the inside. I hear students talk about 'my protagonist' and "I wrote last night until my mother freaked out and told me to shut down and go to bed, she doesn't believe I'm writing my novel, she thought I was on Facebook!"
This year one of my old students said we needed a midpoint goal. So we named it after her and 25,000 words is the goal.
I love how kids gets excited about writing, how some of my old students come back and want to participate even though they won't be exempt from other writing assignments. I allowed my students who participated in the writing month to be exempt from certain assignments. They also receive an A in the place of the exempted assignments. If they reach the new VaNo, they will received some baked prize from my old student. And if they reach NaNo's goal they get a hand made scarf from me.
I explain the word count. I tell them how insane it will make them. And I tell them they can't edit (believe it or not that really bothers them). And I tell them their name goes on the wall in the back of our room and they have to update it as they write. I tell them they can write about anything. The story they have festering in their head. A daily rant of their lives. I tell them about the A for trying, the baked goods, the scarf.
You wouldn't think they'd want to go near this challenge for what seems like 'little' prizes for the outcome. But they can't wait to start.
As they begin to write some find the voice they silenced many years ago. Some find a voice they never knew they had, as well as a confidence. Some find writing can be therapeutic. Then they come back next year and even though they have to do this writing in addition to their regular English work, if they don't have me as their teacher again, they throw themselves back into the melee.
I think that for the month of November some of the society walls are taken down. Kids look at each other as fellow authors, writing to tell stories, be it their own day to day stories, or the fictional ones living in their head. A few students, once they crossed those barriers for November, leave them down for December and beyond. Once they were able to communicate as writers, once they realized the person they thought fit in a certain clique...also fits into their own world...they realize that impressions are not always accurate. What is more telling is how a person deals with life when it gets hard and stressful (and believe me solid writing for a month IS stressful!). They find they count on one another more than their regular friends during this time because their friends just think they're nuts.
Amazing things happen in my class in November. We all end up a little crazy. Overwrought. We learn more about what we are made of and what others are made up of.
Some of my most struggling kids choose to participate and find success in ways they never thought they could.
I always tell them you can always edit SOMETHING but you can't edit NOTHING. You have to get things out and onto paper or a screen...then you can readjust it, reorganize. But you need to get it out there first, you need to stop being afraid it won't be perfect. Give yourself permission to flop, to hate it, to make your ideas go wild. You have control. For one month you are the Controller...of at least your story/writing.
And you can edit in December. But for November just dream the impossible.
When they see that happen for one month...it is easier for them to buy in for more...they are the controller of their own LIVES. And they can make the impossible come true.
When I see my students so thrilled about writing, so jazzed up about what is going on in their head, or finding peace through their writing, I rediscover the power of writing in a fresh way. Alex, my 7 year-old wants to do it this year, so she is doing MiniGaNo, and her goal is 2,000 words.
So, for the month of November I will trying to write my novel. Dreaming the impossible. Wish me luck!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Being broken...otherwise known as Mosaic
A mom at dance class asked me about some of Kath's swallowing issues and opened up the vein of memory from when we worried continuously about Kath's swallowing. We don't have to worry in the same way anymore, though of course we watch her eat and when she coughs I stop breathing until she breathes normally. Otherwise some of the other panic feelings have abated. But all it takes is the 'right' mood and the 'right' question...and wham I feel the weakness in my knees and my gut starts wrenching all over again.
This time, because the conversation was brought around to the mom of a child newly diagnosed with health issues, and how she was handling things, I was brought back to the not-so-distant past and of how I first felt when Kath was diagnosed (we are coming up on almost 4 years ago). I looked around the dance studio waiting area at the other moms watching their daughters practice and I realized that I still felt an 'otherness' from them. Since Kath's diagnosis I never fit back in with other moms...or at least moms who don't have children with some sort of disability or health issue.
It is as if when I was told of Kath's stroke diagnosis I broke. I shattered. I remember that feeling, I remember exactly how I felt, and even just by pulling back the little piece of that scab, I find I still bleed. I remember how I vainly tried to cover up my brokeness, how I tried to hold my seams together and not just scream. Scream. Scream. I had sharp, pointy pieces inside of me; whenever I breathed, it hurt. I could only take short, pant-like breaths. I could only get enough air into my body to survive. Some days only barely.
That shattered feeling lasted a long time.
A long time.
What helped to make that time last longer and feel even more despairing was that I lost 'friends' who either misunderstood or couldn't handle what I was going through. I lost friends because I couldn't pay attention to their needs when I was so shattered---I felt that I needed all of my energy to remember to breathe and that I had to be there for Kath and the rest of my family. I couldn't spend time with others, away from Kath. I had to be near her every chance, every second I wasn't working. I felt like everything was so fragile, so delicate, that I had to be there if anything else broke. I still sleep in the girls' room...but that's probably a whole blog unto itself. :)
One person made the comment on her way out to the effect of something like this, as if life is some bumper sticker, "You'd find the time for me, if you really wanted to."
That is false. And so painful to have thrown at you--as if life was just that easy. As if my life and my time was/is my own.
Those types of comments made me feel that not only was I somehow a failure at being a parent (why else would I be going through all of this?), but I also was horrible at being a friend?! Just at the time I needed friends, it felt like they were leaving and scarring me on their way out.
More pointy edges. Further withdrawal on my part.
On the outside, I smiled, got up and dressed each day, taught, embraced the students who could weave through the brier patch into my heart, ...and I watched my old life disintegrate. A couple of times very publicly and always most painfully.
Then something very magical did happen. I began to realize that there were still people around. I didn't chase them all away! Those who did weave through the thorns I was protectively cultivating, let me lean on them so I could regain my footing. I had started to build up a wall so I wouldn't ever shatter again (as if one can ever truly prepare for that). These people didn't expect anything in return. They just stood beside me and waited for me to catch my breath. They gave me hugs. They smiled. They let me frown and cry and they weren't scared away by my intensity. And even though it has taken a few years, I can feel it happening, I'm finally starting to catch my breath.
I have a few friends, my mom and my sons, who I can text on a Friday night at 9PM. Most of my people know I don't like to talk on the phone. I'll text, but talking is akin to opening a vein some nights and I just might not be able to stitch it back closed by the time everyone wakes up and needs me in the morning. So I text short blurbs and swallow the rest. And they understand. They are still there as the smoke settles.
Many adults seem to think that if you share a problem they have to help fix it, kids don't have that misconception. They know so much is out of their control and that sometimes, without even knowing the specific problem, just saying "Hey" ...sometimes that is enough. "Hey, are you okay? I'm thinking about you." I think teaching the groups of kids I had the past few years (many of them, maybe not all! haha) helped me to get back on my feet too. They too live with the thorns and broken glass of their own lives and yet they come to school and try all over again every day.
There were a few friends who may not have known what I was really going through, or may not have wanted to face the fear and pain that I'm sure I reflected in my eyes, but they waited. They stayed on the sidelines and instead of making me have to start from scratch with them or walk away to find new friends, they have reopened their arms and said, "Hey."
Ah. My hemimoms. I'm crying as I write this because these are the moms I have shared my Life with even though I haven't met most of them, probably won't ever either. But I have shared so much with them, as they have with me. As heavy as it all gets, these women inspire me and help me to share my burden. These moms understand the triumphs better than most, sometimes better than my husband, and they feel the anguish as deeply as I do. We breathe the same air. They laugh and they sob as if they are right by my side, which of course they are, in our virtual Facebook commune. I only hope I have been able ease some of their burdens a bit along the way sometimes too.
And of course there is Kath herself. Her joy. Her laughter. Her love of life. Her curiosity. Her smile. Her abilities. My amazing gift. One of the five amazing gifts I have been granted.
I have started to pick up my shattered pieces. With much time, energy, patience and assistance; I've started to glue myself back together.
I'm not the same as I was before that bitter day in February when I was told Kath had a massive stroke.
I'll never be the same.
What I'm finding, as the mending and healing continues, is that the pieces do not fit back into the the same places they came out of.
And thank God for that.
Some of those edges needed to be worn down so as not to puncture my lung or make me bleed out. The edges are smoother ~ like rocks and shells churning in the ocean for hundreds of years. Some parts are even shinier than they were before. I am a better mother. I am a better teacher.
Those are the spots I pull most of my energy into and I'm glad at least those two spots are improved.
I'm not some vase to show to company. I'm not working towards some kind of show. I'm for use, this life is my show. I can't 'fake it' as well as I used to, I don't really feel like I need to have that curtain shielding and providing a boundary like I used to.
I'm me. This is it.
I've become a mosaic. I am broken and in pieces, but I've been rearranged to show a different beauty (a different perspective to life, a different purpose, perhaps?). Bits and pieces of brokenness put back together, sometimes with an eye on creativity, but mostly just glued back together in a quick fashion to stop my insides from pouring out and landing in a puddle at your feet.
So you see, I can't really worry if the pain in my eyes makes you feel uncomfortable, I have too many other things to deal with each and every moment. So leave if you must, but be sure you tell the truth to yourself...it's not because of me that you go. It's because of you. The people who left me will probably never read this or begin to understand and though negative perceptions hurt me, I really can't do anything to fix them. It's their problem, afterall, not mine. And it has taken me awhile to come to that understanding.
My mosaic is the art work of my SELF--A Work in Progress-- of my healing and of my living. I'm actually more than I was before I was broken, even if it doesn't always seem that way, even if I have more wrinkles, my hair is thinner and grayer, and I cry quicker. I also laugh and love deeper, I understand students better, I believe in grace and I give good strong hugs. I see brighter colors. I understand how quickly things change from worrying about silly things like your credit rating, to worrying about whether your child will choke if she swallows too much while trying to breath, or god forbid, even laugh.
I could have handled things differently, better even, but I do the best I can with what I have. Every day I have to be aware and conscious in a way I never was before. Now the path I chose is not to wallow (most days), but to take my Elmer's, my thread and needle and a few pieces of beach glass and continue forward creating the new path, redefining and fixing who I am, as I go.
I'm broken. I'm mosaic.
But I'm still here, trying.
I'm here for the long haul.
I will be worth the wait when I catch my breath.
This time, because the conversation was brought around to the mom of a child newly diagnosed with health issues, and how she was handling things, I was brought back to the not-so-distant past and of how I first felt when Kath was diagnosed (we are coming up on almost 4 years ago). I looked around the dance studio waiting area at the other moms watching their daughters practice and I realized that I still felt an 'otherness' from them. Since Kath's diagnosis I never fit back in with other moms...or at least moms who don't have children with some sort of disability or health issue.
It is as if when I was told of Kath's stroke diagnosis I broke. I shattered. I remember that feeling, I remember exactly how I felt, and even just by pulling back the little piece of that scab, I find I still bleed. I remember how I vainly tried to cover up my brokeness, how I tried to hold my seams together and not just scream. Scream. Scream. I had sharp, pointy pieces inside of me; whenever I breathed, it hurt. I could only take short, pant-like breaths. I could only get enough air into my body to survive. Some days only barely.
That shattered feeling lasted a long time.
A long time.
What helped to make that time last longer and feel even more despairing was that I lost 'friends' who either misunderstood or couldn't handle what I was going through. I lost friends because I couldn't pay attention to their needs when I was so shattered---I felt that I needed all of my energy to remember to breathe and that I had to be there for Kath and the rest of my family. I couldn't spend time with others, away from Kath. I had to be near her every chance, every second I wasn't working. I felt like everything was so fragile, so delicate, that I had to be there if anything else broke. I still sleep in the girls' room...but that's probably a whole blog unto itself. :)
One person made the comment on her way out to the effect of something like this, as if life is some bumper sticker, "You'd find the time for me, if you really wanted to."
That is false. And so painful to have thrown at you--as if life was just that easy. As if my life and my time was/is my own.
Those types of comments made me feel that not only was I somehow a failure at being a parent (why else would I be going through all of this?), but I also was horrible at being a friend?! Just at the time I needed friends, it felt like they were leaving and scarring me on their way out.
More pointy edges. Further withdrawal on my part.
On the outside, I smiled, got up and dressed each day, taught, embraced the students who could weave through the brier patch into my heart, ...and I watched my old life disintegrate. A couple of times very publicly and always most painfully.
Then something very magical did happen. I began to realize that there were still people around. I didn't chase them all away! Those who did weave through the thorns I was protectively cultivating, let me lean on them so I could regain my footing. I had started to build up a wall so I wouldn't ever shatter again (as if one can ever truly prepare for that). These people didn't expect anything in return. They just stood beside me and waited for me to catch my breath. They gave me hugs. They smiled. They let me frown and cry and they weren't scared away by my intensity. And even though it has taken a few years, I can feel it happening, I'm finally starting to catch my breath.
I have a few friends, my mom and my sons, who I can text on a Friday night at 9PM. Most of my people know I don't like to talk on the phone. I'll text, but talking is akin to opening a vein some nights and I just might not be able to stitch it back closed by the time everyone wakes up and needs me in the morning. So I text short blurbs and swallow the rest. And they understand. They are still there as the smoke settles.
Many adults seem to think that if you share a problem they have to help fix it, kids don't have that misconception. They know so much is out of their control and that sometimes, without even knowing the specific problem, just saying "Hey" ...sometimes that is enough. "Hey, are you okay? I'm thinking about you." I think teaching the groups of kids I had the past few years (many of them, maybe not all! haha) helped me to get back on my feet too. They too live with the thorns and broken glass of their own lives and yet they come to school and try all over again every day.
There were a few friends who may not have known what I was really going through, or may not have wanted to face the fear and pain that I'm sure I reflected in my eyes, but they waited. They stayed on the sidelines and instead of making me have to start from scratch with them or walk away to find new friends, they have reopened their arms and said, "Hey."
Ah. My hemimoms. I'm crying as I write this because these are the moms I have shared my Life with even though I haven't met most of them, probably won't ever either. But I have shared so much with them, as they have with me. As heavy as it all gets, these women inspire me and help me to share my burden. These moms understand the triumphs better than most, sometimes better than my husband, and they feel the anguish as deeply as I do. We breathe the same air. They laugh and they sob as if they are right by my side, which of course they are, in our virtual Facebook commune. I only hope I have been able ease some of their burdens a bit along the way sometimes too.
And of course there is Kath herself. Her joy. Her laughter. Her love of life. Her curiosity. Her smile. Her abilities. My amazing gift. One of the five amazing gifts I have been granted.
I have started to pick up my shattered pieces. With much time, energy, patience and assistance; I've started to glue myself back together.
I'm not the same as I was before that bitter day in February when I was told Kath had a massive stroke.
I'll never be the same.
What I'm finding, as the mending and healing continues, is that the pieces do not fit back into the the same places they came out of.
And thank God for that.
Some of those edges needed to be worn down so as not to puncture my lung or make me bleed out. The edges are smoother ~ like rocks and shells churning in the ocean for hundreds of years. Some parts are even shinier than they were before. I am a better mother. I am a better teacher.
Those are the spots I pull most of my energy into and I'm glad at least those two spots are improved.
I'm not some vase to show to company. I'm not working towards some kind of show. I'm for use, this life is my show. I can't 'fake it' as well as I used to, I don't really feel like I need to have that curtain shielding and providing a boundary like I used to.
I'm me. This is it.
I've become a mosaic. I am broken and in pieces, but I've been rearranged to show a different beauty (a different perspective to life, a different purpose, perhaps?). Bits and pieces of brokenness put back together, sometimes with an eye on creativity, but mostly just glued back together in a quick fashion to stop my insides from pouring out and landing in a puddle at your feet.
So you see, I can't really worry if the pain in my eyes makes you feel uncomfortable, I have too many other things to deal with each and every moment. So leave if you must, but be sure you tell the truth to yourself...it's not because of me that you go. It's because of you. The people who left me will probably never read this or begin to understand and though negative perceptions hurt me, I really can't do anything to fix them. It's their problem, afterall, not mine. And it has taken me awhile to come to that understanding.
My mosaic is the art work of my SELF--A Work in Progress-- of my healing and of my living. I'm actually more than I was before I was broken, even if it doesn't always seem that way, even if I have more wrinkles, my hair is thinner and grayer, and I cry quicker. I also laugh and love deeper, I understand students better, I believe in grace and I give good strong hugs. I see brighter colors. I understand how quickly things change from worrying about silly things like your credit rating, to worrying about whether your child will choke if she swallows too much while trying to breath, or god forbid, even laugh.
I could have handled things differently, better even, but I do the best I can with what I have. Every day I have to be aware and conscious in a way I never was before. Now the path I chose is not to wallow (most days), but to take my Elmer's, my thread and needle and a few pieces of beach glass and continue forward creating the new path, redefining and fixing who I am, as I go.
I'm broken. I'm mosaic.
But I'm still here, trying.
I'm here for the long haul.
I will be worth the wait when I catch my breath.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
I want to be the teacher for my students...that I want my girls to have in their lives.
I had a student today ask me why everyone comes and talks to me. I said, "because they know I love them" in a flippant, quick way. But when I thought about it I DO think that is one of the reasons some of them come to see me even when they don't have class with me. I have kids in my room from the moment I open my door in the morning (sometimes earlier if I forget to lock my door the night before!); they come just to check in and say good morning, or to vent about something bugging them in their life, sometimes occasionally to even turn in a late assignment! I have lunch in my room because I share that time with students, too. I often share my prep blocks with students who 'need somewhere to go.' Students often bop in while my current students are working, to check-in, grab a lollipop and reset themselves. At the end of the day when they could be running to hang with their friends, they come in and tell me about their day, their life and then bop out saying, "Have a great night, Gabs!" (No wonder I am always behind in my grading!)
When I look at my Katharina and I look at her horrible test scores on her neuro pysch evaluations I know that what is absolutely KEY for Kath is for her to have a teacher who is so tuned into her and her way of learning that she (most of Kath's teachers have been female) can guide her along her path, not just lead her, but allow Kath to set the pace at times, nudge her other times and sit back at others. Alex works differently...show her the path and she gallops down it with occasional looks back to make sure she's going on the right path. So my goal this year is look at each one my kids (I consider my students my kids), even the ones who I can't get to sit still for 10 minutes at a time, and try to figure out how they learn; how they think; then to figure out how can I guide them to go-at-their-own-pace. How can I make it so they can understand who they are at their core and where they want to fit in in this world?
I'm not sure exactly how I will do this without being completely exhausted. I have just about 100 students in my English classes and another 45 in my study halls. I found this year that even my study hall kids need me. One student said to his friend who was confiding a rough life history to me, "Why are you telling her all of this?" "Because she listens," was my study hall student's answer.
I think I am pretty good at teaching grammar, teaching literature meanings, teaching writing. But I think what my students get the most from me is...me. Old fashioned eye contact. An ear that listens. A smile that warmly says, "Hi, how are you?" Then patiently waits for the answer.
I don't think I'm special or different. I think having my own kids and not doing the 'right' stuff over the years has taught me a little about how to do things better. I think I'm a better teacher now than I ever was. I wish I could recall those students from the past 14 years and try again. I think having my children in two sets has helped me to have time to learn hard lessons. I think having a child with a different-abilitied life in front of her has made me try to think differently about how I approach all children. It impacts how I approach the ones who walk past me in the hallway and those who stop to talk and those who I teach English to...and those I corral in a study hall.
I am trying to be the teacher I hope my own daughters get as educators. The kind that shows 'care' through the teaching. The kind that embraces the child in front of me, not the ideal student I wish I had, the ones who listen and learn fast and easy. I want each student to feel success, have a goal and be ready to step out, even if it is not in my subject matter. I want each student to be ready to find their place in the world, the place they want to be in, not what others have relegated them to.
I want the students in my life to find their voice, their callings, their joy just as much as I want the Katharinas and Alexandras to find their places. This world will be such a great place if each person could find a place they feel good about themselves. And I try to be the mother and the teacher who helps my kids try to find that place.
When I look at my Katharina and I look at her horrible test scores on her neuro pysch evaluations I know that what is absolutely KEY for Kath is for her to have a teacher who is so tuned into her and her way of learning that she (most of Kath's teachers have been female) can guide her along her path, not just lead her, but allow Kath to set the pace at times, nudge her other times and sit back at others. Alex works differently...show her the path and she gallops down it with occasional looks back to make sure she's going on the right path. So my goal this year is look at each one my kids (I consider my students my kids), even the ones who I can't get to sit still for 10 minutes at a time, and try to figure out how they learn; how they think; then to figure out how can I guide them to go-at-their-own-pace. How can I make it so they can understand who they are at their core and where they want to fit in in this world?
I'm not sure exactly how I will do this without being completely exhausted. I have just about 100 students in my English classes and another 45 in my study halls. I found this year that even my study hall kids need me. One student said to his friend who was confiding a rough life history to me, "Why are you telling her all of this?" "Because she listens," was my study hall student's answer.
I think I am pretty good at teaching grammar, teaching literature meanings, teaching writing. But I think what my students get the most from me is...me. Old fashioned eye contact. An ear that listens. A smile that warmly says, "Hi, how are you?" Then patiently waits for the answer.
I don't think I'm special or different. I think having my own kids and not doing the 'right' stuff over the years has taught me a little about how to do things better. I think I'm a better teacher now than I ever was. I wish I could recall those students from the past 14 years and try again. I think having my children in two sets has helped me to have time to learn hard lessons. I think having a child with a different-abilitied life in front of her has made me try to think differently about how I approach all children. It impacts how I approach the ones who walk past me in the hallway and those who stop to talk and those who I teach English to...and those I corral in a study hall.
I am trying to be the teacher I hope my own daughters get as educators. The kind that shows 'care' through the teaching. The kind that embraces the child in front of me, not the ideal student I wish I had, the ones who listen and learn fast and easy. I want each student to feel success, have a goal and be ready to step out, even if it is not in my subject matter. I want each student to be ready to find their place in the world, the place they want to be in, not what others have relegated them to.
I want the students in my life to find their voice, their callings, their joy just as much as I want the Katharinas and Alexandras to find their places. This world will be such a great place if each person could find a place they feel good about themselves. And I try to be the mother and the teacher who helps my kids try to find that place.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Lessons Learned from Little Ones
1) Love with your whole heart. Give big hugs that really mean something. That really give the huggee something to hold onto...whether it is your love, hope, forgiveness, whatever reason you are hugging...make it feel like you mean it.
2) Forgive and forget. Not many kids hold a misstep over on someone. They more tend to warily move around and around, but they don't gossip and hold grudges. Usually.
3) Laugh until your belly aches. My daughters both have t-shirts that say this...and it is one of their favorite outfits. They love to laugh, they do it often and we never tell them to be quiet when laughing...ok, almost never.
4) Color. If you haven't done this recently you should buy some Crayola crayons and a big old coloring book and then sit. and. color. It takes your blood pressure down and you actually have great convos with your little one while doing it.
5) Look up at the sky often. And either decide what shape the clouds are or try to create your own constellations.
6) Look down at the ground often. Pick up rocks and notice hard working ants.
7) And truly notice what you see. Pay attention to the little things. To people who take the time to look you in the eye and listen to you. To people who slow their world down to say hello, how are you doing? And then wait for a reply.
8) Golden rule. We teach it. We say it. We need to think before we act...and not just about our actions effect ourselves, but the long range Big Picture.
9) "When I get bigger...." Kath has a million goals. Driving. Visiting me. Having kids. Eating ice cream after breakfast tomorrow. She always has a plan. Always have a plan. Especially those big fluffy plans that some people might try to discourage you from and say they are out of reach and reality.
10) Keep your eyes opened and snuggle. Fight sleep to read a good book, but then dream good dreams.
11) If you want to be a lima bean for Halloween (like Alex does) then you should be one. By all means...dress up as weird vegetables you enjoy.
12) Every day BE what you want to DO. Be happy. Be a teacher. Be motivated. Be caring. Be funny. Be hardworking. Be in the moment. Be loving. Be peaceful. Be you. Do what makes you feel alive. Do what makes you happy. Be and Do.
I'm sure I will have more, but after not posting for awhile, and after having this one in a holding pattern for a month...it will be good to let it go and feel somewhat accomplished this weekend. :)
2) Forgive and forget. Not many kids hold a misstep over on someone. They more tend to warily move around and around, but they don't gossip and hold grudges. Usually.
3) Laugh until your belly aches. My daughters both have t-shirts that say this...and it is one of their favorite outfits. They love to laugh, they do it often and we never tell them to be quiet when laughing...ok, almost never.
4) Color. If you haven't done this recently you should buy some Crayola crayons and a big old coloring book and then sit. and. color. It takes your blood pressure down and you actually have great convos with your little one while doing it.
5) Look up at the sky often. And either decide what shape the clouds are or try to create your own constellations.
6) Look down at the ground often. Pick up rocks and notice hard working ants.
7) And truly notice what you see. Pay attention to the little things. To people who take the time to look you in the eye and listen to you. To people who slow their world down to say hello, how are you doing? And then wait for a reply.
8) Golden rule. We teach it. We say it. We need to think before we act...and not just about our actions effect ourselves, but the long range Big Picture.
9) "When I get bigger...." Kath has a million goals. Driving. Visiting me. Having kids. Eating ice cream after breakfast tomorrow. She always has a plan. Always have a plan. Especially those big fluffy plans that some people might try to discourage you from and say they are out of reach and reality.
10) Keep your eyes opened and snuggle. Fight sleep to read a good book, but then dream good dreams.
11) If you want to be a lima bean for Halloween (like Alex does) then you should be one. By all means...dress up as weird vegetables you enjoy.
12) Every day BE what you want to DO. Be happy. Be a teacher. Be motivated. Be caring. Be funny. Be hardworking. Be in the moment. Be loving. Be peaceful. Be you. Do what makes you feel alive. Do what makes you happy. Be and Do.
I'm sure I will have more, but after not posting for awhile, and after having this one in a holding pattern for a month...it will be good to let it go and feel somewhat accomplished this weekend. :)
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Maybe healing is really more about how you look at the storms....
I've been wracking my brain to figure out how to write about my other thoughts about healing...without sounding new-age-y or crazy. Oh well, that might be impossible. I last wrote about how healing sometimes seems like it's about getting back up and moving forward (as Dori would say in Finding Nemo 'Keep swimming')...but I often feel it is really more than that.
When I first found out about Kath's stroke I just kept swimming...some days in circles, but I knew I had to keep moving. Mind you I did my turtle impression and pulled away from every one and everything that I possibly could, thereby losing several friends because I simply didn't have the energy to keep swimming and also be there for anyone else outside my home. I was concentrating on keeping my nose above the tide while trying to hold everyone in my family, with their variety of issues, up above the waves. And everything was so heavy. So darn heavy that it took all I had to just. keep. swimming.
Then things began to ...I'm not sure what to call it...but I was able to start to breathe...maybe the waters started to recede...but, no, not really because all of the same problems were there...well, more actually, because now great financial difficulties raised the water level.
You know that anecdote that says that most American families are one crisis away from financial ruin? Well, we were hit over and over...within two years.
1) While I was working part time (job sharing my teaching position),
2) Nick had his TBI accident.
3) We found out I was pregnant (not a 'crisis', quite a blessing, but still a financial struggle).
4) Then after she was a year, we found out Kath's stroke diagnosis.
5) Two weeks later Roger had his roll-over car accident during a snowstorm, totaling the car we had just paid off and taken the collision coverage off--to save money--a few weeks prior)
6) and his head injury.
7) Our well stopped working and we needed a new one.
8) Our entire cesspool system stopped working and we needed a new one.
9) We had to purchase two new-used cars.
Each time we thought we were getting a grip on some unwieldy part of our life--something else slammed into us, with our credit card companies adding the icing on the cake by raising our interest rates and decreasing our limits then charging for being over this new lowered limit and all that craziness before federal credit card regulations thankfully came into play this past year. This basically decimated our credit scores.
What I noticed and maybe Hurricane Irene helped me notice--was how far I've come in how I look at problems and recovering/healing from them. In the beginning I used to say things like "Now what else?" but as time went on I began to say, "Ok, I'm ok, I can handle this."
I actually walked around saying that for a long time.
Until I believed it.
It took a long time.
I was introduced then reintroduced to the idea of Positive Thinking and Law of Attraction. Sounds hokey. But whatever works, right? It finally 'took.' I of course prayed, found strength in myself and found that all of those together are pretty amazing tools to have. I began to think of healing as being able to handle the big problems and the little problems without feeling like I was ripped open and walking around raw.
While Hurricane Irene was building momentum and coming up the coast we took her seriously. Afterall, this was a possible catastrophe we could actually PLAN for...we don't often get that opportunity. In my world, catastrophes hit you when you don't expect it...I don't get days notice to stock up on essentials. So we filled containers of water, made sure we had plenty of food, ice, batteries. The wash was caught up. Bathtubs were filled. Then we kept checking the news and the weather, watching the stories of what others were going through as the storm came closer. Praying Manhattan, where our son Chris lives, wouldn't flood. Praying my NYPD brother wouldn't have to risk his life to rescue some Hurricane Jerk. Praying my parents on Long Island would be okay without power and not need to evacuate. We packed up and packed in all outside objects we could so nothing would be a projectile, including my favorite outside porch chairs.
I also checked facebook and watched friends struggle with power outages, flooding and scared kids, prior to the storm actually reaching here...having a bit of a 'heads-up' warning of what to expect was pretty nice. Then I also read posts from people who seems to be trying to egg on the storm. "THAT was a hurricane? Irene was nothing!"
Those comments made me angry. Really upset. Didn't they know that when you are blessed to walk away from some catastrophe you don't say, "Eish, is that the best you got, Mother Nature?" If you are so fortunate to walk away unscathed from any type of storm, diagnosis, or evaluation, you don't taunt it, you walk away gratefully. You say thank you to God, the Source, whoever you pray to. To your planning, the early warning, the president, FEMA, your governor, the squirrels, whatever, but you don't thumb your nose and say, "Phsaw."
The reason people's attitudes probably bugged me so much because I was a bit cavalier like that before our crash.
Having so many issues to deal with, especially in a span of 2 years, has made me appreciate when things go right with a strength of conviction and gratefulness I never did before. Even the little things that others may take for granted, a sunny day after a storm, the fish survived another night, the dog didn't eat my junk food, are reasons to celebrate and be thankful.
I look at this storm...and the cups my daughter Alex, filled with water (we have jugs in the basement) so she could help prepare, and the furniture that could have stayed out of the garage and I say, "Whew, thank God we didn't need all that, but at least we knew we were as prepared as much as we possibly could be. We did what we could, we prepared ourselves for the worst and hoped for the best.
So when the basement sprung a leak, it was annoying and frustrating, but it was not as frazzling and overwhelming as it would have been when Kath was first diagnosed. Although when Kath did fall up the stairs, --after following us up and down while we swept up the water, she tripped and almost bit through her lip,--I did lose it. I couldn't even look at first. I held her, Roger hung up on his father and we tried to figure out if we were heading to the ER during the storm. The bleeding stopped and ice pops calmed her. Monday morning when I called the doctor's office to ask what to do...and found out I was doing right (Woo-hoo!) and all that could be done, I felt that notch click into place. I DO know what I am doing. Sometimes.
I think my idea of healing is also being able to breath again, without reminding myself to. You have to find what works for you, kind of like my idea of religion and faith (previous post). Some things that help me are Healing Touch, Power of Positive Thinking, Law of Attraction, doctor and therapy visits, grateful meditations, praying. It could also be as I said in my last post...showing up and getting back up after being knocked over. Or a combination of all of the above. I had to go through each of the above topics, reading, researching, trying them on, keeping the parts I felt worked, letting go of the parts that didn't.
One of the major constant sources of hope, help and sanity have been the fellow families who also struggle with a child on a different path, whether it is CHASA (see sidebar link for more info), facebook groups or friends I have who also have challenges. People who understand are priceless in surviving and healing in a way you just don't understand until you need them, and they are sadly scarce.
Whatever happens, whatever storm, diagnosis, evaluation, issue, I'm grateful that my tool bag of healing ideas is bigger today than it was five years ago when I began 'falling apart' with my son's accident. Some days I need each and every tool to get through the day standing. Other days, just one or three.
Healing one's body, mind and spirit is a slippery thing...maybe that's why there are so many books about it, therapists and thank goodness friends to help get us through.
Whatever works works.
Some days it all clicks and notches into place and I'm okay with the juggle of trying to keep everyone above the water. Other days I want to be on the damn beach already, sunbathing. But many of us know in our very core that now that we have embarked on this life, this journey of having a child with a different ability/path, a different Holland (http://www.our-kids.org/archives/Holland.html), our days on the beach sunbathing are cherished healing breaths of regrouping--which may not happen as often as we want or need. No longer are those beach days the beach days of a carefree youth. We move and think differently than we did, than many of our friends do. No easy feat. One that often leaves us feeling lonely and adrift, unless we connect with other families.
We prepare for the worst and we hope the best. We smile. We laugh. We cry. We try to heal those around us and build bridges for them so they can reach mainland as often as possible and we hope we can heal ourselves along the way. And if we are smart, we learn that by trying to heal ourselves, by putting the oxygen mask (more on that soon) over our own face first, we can heal and be strong enough to help those we love around us, and we can weather the life storms with a bit more of ourselves in tact.
When I first found out about Kath's stroke I just kept swimming...some days in circles, but I knew I had to keep moving. Mind you I did my turtle impression and pulled away from every one and everything that I possibly could, thereby losing several friends because I simply didn't have the energy to keep swimming and also be there for anyone else outside my home. I was concentrating on keeping my nose above the tide while trying to hold everyone in my family, with their variety of issues, up above the waves. And everything was so heavy. So darn heavy that it took all I had to just. keep. swimming.
Then things began to ...I'm not sure what to call it...but I was able to start to breathe...maybe the waters started to recede...but, no, not really because all of the same problems were there...well, more actually, because now great financial difficulties raised the water level.
You know that anecdote that says that most American families are one crisis away from financial ruin? Well, we were hit over and over...within two years.
1) While I was working part time (job sharing my teaching position),
2) Nick had his TBI accident.
3) We found out I was pregnant (not a 'crisis', quite a blessing, but still a financial struggle).
4) Then after she was a year, we found out Kath's stroke diagnosis.
5) Two weeks later Roger had his roll-over car accident during a snowstorm, totaling the car we had just paid off and taken the collision coverage off--to save money--a few weeks prior)
6) and his head injury.
7) Our well stopped working and we needed a new one.
8) Our entire cesspool system stopped working and we needed a new one.
9) We had to purchase two new-used cars.
Each time we thought we were getting a grip on some unwieldy part of our life--something else slammed into us, with our credit card companies adding the icing on the cake by raising our interest rates and decreasing our limits then charging for being over this new lowered limit and all that craziness before federal credit card regulations thankfully came into play this past year. This basically decimated our credit scores.
What I noticed and maybe Hurricane Irene helped me notice--was how far I've come in how I look at problems and recovering/healing from them. In the beginning I used to say things like "Now what else?" but as time went on I began to say, "Ok, I'm ok, I can handle this."
I actually walked around saying that for a long time.
Until I believed it.
It took a long time.
I was introduced then reintroduced to the idea of Positive Thinking and Law of Attraction. Sounds hokey. But whatever works, right? It finally 'took.' I of course prayed, found strength in myself and found that all of those together are pretty amazing tools to have. I began to think of healing as being able to handle the big problems and the little problems without feeling like I was ripped open and walking around raw.
While Hurricane Irene was building momentum and coming up the coast we took her seriously. Afterall, this was a possible catastrophe we could actually PLAN for...we don't often get that opportunity. In my world, catastrophes hit you when you don't expect it...I don't get days notice to stock up on essentials. So we filled containers of water, made sure we had plenty of food, ice, batteries. The wash was caught up. Bathtubs were filled. Then we kept checking the news and the weather, watching the stories of what others were going through as the storm came closer. Praying Manhattan, where our son Chris lives, wouldn't flood. Praying my NYPD brother wouldn't have to risk his life to rescue some Hurricane Jerk. Praying my parents on Long Island would be okay without power and not need to evacuate. We packed up and packed in all outside objects we could so nothing would be a projectile, including my favorite outside porch chairs.
I also checked facebook and watched friends struggle with power outages, flooding and scared kids, prior to the storm actually reaching here...having a bit of a 'heads-up' warning of what to expect was pretty nice. Then I also read posts from people who seems to be trying to egg on the storm. "THAT was a hurricane? Irene was nothing!"
Those comments made me angry. Really upset. Didn't they know that when you are blessed to walk away from some catastrophe you don't say, "Eish, is that the best you got, Mother Nature?" If you are so fortunate to walk away unscathed from any type of storm, diagnosis, or evaluation, you don't taunt it, you walk away gratefully. You say thank you to God, the Source, whoever you pray to. To your planning, the early warning, the president, FEMA, your governor, the squirrels, whatever, but you don't thumb your nose and say, "Phsaw."
The reason people's attitudes probably bugged me so much because I was a bit cavalier like that before our crash.
Having so many issues to deal with, especially in a span of 2 years, has made me appreciate when things go right with a strength of conviction and gratefulness I never did before. Even the little things that others may take for granted, a sunny day after a storm, the fish survived another night, the dog didn't eat my junk food, are reasons to celebrate and be thankful.
I look at this storm...and the cups my daughter Alex, filled with water (we have jugs in the basement) so she could help prepare, and the furniture that could have stayed out of the garage and I say, "Whew, thank God we didn't need all that, but at least we knew we were as prepared as much as we possibly could be. We did what we could, we prepared ourselves for the worst and hoped for the best.
So when the basement sprung a leak, it was annoying and frustrating, but it was not as frazzling and overwhelming as it would have been when Kath was first diagnosed. Although when Kath did fall up the stairs, --after following us up and down while we swept up the water, she tripped and almost bit through her lip,--I did lose it. I couldn't even look at first. I held her, Roger hung up on his father and we tried to figure out if we were heading to the ER during the storm. The bleeding stopped and ice pops calmed her. Monday morning when I called the doctor's office to ask what to do...and found out I was doing right (Woo-hoo!) and all that could be done, I felt that notch click into place. I DO know what I am doing. Sometimes.
I think my idea of healing is also being able to breath again, without reminding myself to. You have to find what works for you, kind of like my idea of religion and faith (previous post). Some things that help me are Healing Touch, Power of Positive Thinking, Law of Attraction, doctor and therapy visits, grateful meditations, praying. It could also be as I said in my last post...showing up and getting back up after being knocked over. Or a combination of all of the above. I had to go through each of the above topics, reading, researching, trying them on, keeping the parts I felt worked, letting go of the parts that didn't.
One of the major constant sources of hope, help and sanity have been the fellow families who also struggle with a child on a different path, whether it is CHASA (see sidebar link for more info), facebook groups or friends I have who also have challenges. People who understand are priceless in surviving and healing in a way you just don't understand until you need them, and they are sadly scarce.
Whatever happens, whatever storm, diagnosis, evaluation, issue, I'm grateful that my tool bag of healing ideas is bigger today than it was five years ago when I began 'falling apart' with my son's accident. Some days I need each and every tool to get through the day standing. Other days, just one or three.
Healing one's body, mind and spirit is a slippery thing...maybe that's why there are so many books about it, therapists and thank goodness friends to help get us through.
Whatever works works.
Some days it all clicks and notches into place and I'm okay with the juggle of trying to keep everyone above the water. Other days I want to be on the damn beach already, sunbathing. But many of us know in our very core that now that we have embarked on this life, this journey of having a child with a different ability/path, a different Holland (http://www.our-kids.org/archives/Holland.html), our days on the beach sunbathing are cherished healing breaths of regrouping--which may not happen as often as we want or need. No longer are those beach days the beach days of a carefree youth. We move and think differently than we did, than many of our friends do. No easy feat. One that often leaves us feeling lonely and adrift, unless we connect with other families.
We prepare for the worst and we hope the best. We smile. We laugh. We cry. We try to heal those around us and build bridges for them so they can reach mainland as often as possible and we hope we can heal ourselves along the way. And if we are smart, we learn that by trying to heal ourselves, by putting the oxygen mask (more on that soon) over our own face first, we can heal and be strong enough to help those we love around us, and we can weather the life storms with a bit more of ourselves in tact.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Book Review for Goodreads for Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings
Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings by Helene BoudreauMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I love reading YA books. I enjoy books from YA better than any other type...except maybe classic lit...but I really only like them after I've read them a few times and geek-discussed them to get at the core. But YA books, I love them. First time reading. And second. Especially when they are written well, with respect to their audience and with a strong protagonist. And if they have a good sense of humor...all the better!
Ms Boudreau's book was a choice book for my 7 year-old. She saw me reading it, liked the cover, loved the idea that I knew the writer and so she stuck with it although some of the talk (first period and boyfriend crushes) were beyond her (at least I HOPE they were, I explained some, but not everything).
The main character, Jade is grieving the loss of her mom (Alex is NOT happy with how many mom's die in stories, so she was thrilled at the ending, but wants a sequel) who allegedly drowned a year ago, and although this is tragic and very sad, Ms. Boudreau manages to play the healing sensitively and humorously, especially when Jade gets her period for the first time and her geeky father showing up, trying to help, with a shopping cart FULL of feminine projects ...in from of her crush.
When Jade discovers that she turns into a mermaid she also finds out her mother was a mermaid, who had special permission to stay human. So how could a mermaid drown? The mystery thickens. Along with a frazzled best friend relationship which promises to pull her apart, unstudied for final exams, a mom sighting, Jade shows the reader that she is made of tougher stuff than that.
My daughter loves whenever a strong female character stands up for herself. She gets that nervous, excited giggle and she stands crouched on the balls of the feet at the end of the couch waiting for the next scene...she is a true pleasure to read to, she laughs out loud, she gets so nervous she'll hide her eyes, groan, and even ask me to stop, she can't take anymore. She went through all of these emotions, and I of course did too because this was a gripping, funny tale of a girl discovering who she is has more to do with her heart than her outside, whether she means the overweight outside or the fin-encased mermaid outside. Jade stands up and takes her spot in her own life and learns the power of making things happen. She learns how to apologize, how to keep good-for-you promises and how to stay true to yourself even if the boy has cute curly hair and a mysterious back story himself.
This was well worth the read and you should give it a read.
View all my reviews
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Watching the Clouds at the Beach (AKA Healing? We are NOT Life Wimps!)
I have been thinking a lot about healing lately. Healing of body, mind and spirit.
I think about how different it is-- for each type as well as for each person.
Three and a half years ago Roger had a roll over car accident, he needed 6 staples to his head, and we believe he has undiagnosed post concussive syndrome. He has memory issues as well as issues with too many stimuli-he can be easily overwhelmed-which is not good for the father of four, high school teacher in an inner city school, early morning newspaper deliverer and husband of ME. He still struggles with parts of it but he isn't as easily flustered now, and believe me, Kath tries. He's trying to find coping strategies that work around his issues.
Nick had his head-on collision with a cinderblock wall five years ago and is diagnosed with post concussive syndrome and he struggles every day with memory, as well as self discipline and assorted other issues. He's still trying to figure out the outer edges of his injury and what his new goals have to be in order to move forward.
Then there's Kath stroke and the myriad of issues that has provided us.
For each of these things that needs healing I notice that it is similar to the other two types...even when one deals with a mental or spiritual 'hit' you have to go through a grieving process, it seems. The mourning for the life path you thought you were on, but are no longer. The person or persons you thought you knew and find you don't. The confusion over 'why' and 'why me' and 'who is driving this boat, anyway?'
Roger and Nick wish they could get those seconds before their accidents back and stop them from happening. I remember thinking and praying I wouldn't have a child with issues, I didn't think I could handle it (I didn't know about Law of Attraction back then, but Nick had just had his accident). However, when I was asked to take tests for different health issues...I chose not to...knowing I would have and want my baby no matter what the tests showed. After Kath was diagnosed, I definitely mourned the life she didn't seem to have a chance at anymore and the life I wouldn't be able to fold back into.
But as I sat on the beach this week I thought a lot about healing. The girls and I went to Long Island to check in on my mother who is healing from spinal surgery (Alex was finally ready for some travel after healing from having her tonsils and adenoids removed) and also so the girls and I could go to the beach.
The forecast for the day we were to go to the beach called for thunderstorms. I decided to go anyway, with the idea that we could sit in the car and eat lunch, while still be breathing in salt air. We weren't going to be fair-weather beach bums. So we packed up towels, sunblock, beach toys, umbrellas, rain boots and off we went.
The clouds were even darker and more foreboding once we arrived at Robert Moses, field five, but we trekked to the water, opened our chairs and pulled out our lunches...and we were not alone. There were several other blanket neighbor families. About three minutes into eating we had our first metaphor for life. Kath put her sandwich on top of the cooler and I thought it fell, so I did the normal mom whine..."Kaaath, you have to watch what you're doing. Now your sandwich is in the ....where is your sandwich?" She just looked at me, and a little beyond me, eyes wide. I turned around and there was a Band of Brothers Brood of Seagulls staring at us, looking a little militant. The sandwich was already consumed and they were looking for the next weak move on our part. It was swallowed whole and they had no qualms about staring us down until we dropped our guard.
Just like in life, sometimes you think you are going along all fine and good and wham...someone snatches away your moment. Or your food. Sometimes it takes the wind right out from under you and startled you just stand and say, "What the hell just happened?" Luckily this time I was semi-prepared. I packed extra sandwiches! And my blanket neighbor buddies all shared in the moment, we laughed and it is a funny story. Now. Especially when Kath tells it in her high breathless squeal, "THE SEAGULL STOLE MY SANDWICH!!!" I thought, "This is fun, I'm so glad we came."
There were boughts of sun as it burned through some clouds. It really did look like it BURNED through too. The sky was covered in strips upon strips of layered clouds but there were areas where the sun lit up the sky in light waves and other times when it blew completely through the clouds...and poured straight down in a perfect circle of a hole that lit up where we happened to be. And I thought, "This is so beautiful, I'm so glad we came."
It did start to rain. One of our blanket neighbor buddies--an older couple with their grandchildren said, "Don't worry, it will pass quickly." I laughed and said, "Ah, spoken like the people who are under an umbrella!" And he laughed and said, "Well, we always have to believe that, don't we? That it'll pass quickly? Or we wouldn't do anything!" And it was suddenly one of those moments where you know you are getting life advice from a wise person...not just a weather report. This couple was one of the healthiest older couples I had ever seen. They ran around and played with the three kids, he swam laps in the ocean and had very fit legs, might I add, in a hopefully nonstalkerish way! And she smiled and laughed with her whole essence. And because he said that, even though I started to pack all of our things into our beach buggy, we stayed and it DID pass quickly. And I thought, "Wow, that is like life, sometimes those storms look so bad and you think you'll have to duck and cover, but all it takes is one person, sometimes a complete stranger to say, "Hey, it's okay..." and you stop the panic and you say..."Hhmmmooookay" and you see those great big raindrops aren't meant to be scary (this time), that the bad did just pass quickly and we can get back on track with our fun. And that was exactly what we did. Sometimes 'bad stuff' isn't horrible and breathtaking, it's just 'notgreat/notgood' and having that reminder is good. I thought, "Wow, I'm really glad we stayed."
Alex build a huge sand castle kingdom. Alex is my shy, focused kid. Very much like Nick use to be when he was younger, and in many ways he still is. She was determined to build this huge kingdom...she brought buckets up and down so many times, and the sand just sucked them up (we were too far away from the water), and she was too stubborn to stop. There was a two foot drop off from the area we had our blanket on to the water (it looked like the state had done some plowing of pushing sand inland) and so she had to go down a little ways where it wasn't so high, and back and forth she continued. Alex was not distracted by the two little grandboys next blanket over who were 'falling' off--in Charlie Chaplin style-- the two foot cliff, she barely looked at them. Well, except to eyeball them and her castle as if to say, "Don't mess with this, grrr." (Come to think of it, she might have learned something of that look from the militant seagulls.) Kath, on the other hand, was belly laughing at their antics...thereby providing an appreciative audience for them and egging them back on.
Side by side my serious girl and my goofball.
Kath lay back in the sand and swung her legs and left arm up and down. "What are you doing?" "I'm making a sand angel!" So I went over and helped her right hand make its path so she could have her angel with two wings. It was an instinct, but maybe I should have let it be. The way she is is fine with me, but I do try to 'fix' it sometimes and I never know if I'm right to. I know it is right for her to have therapy and to work so she can have the most use out of her body with cerebral palsy, but I wonder if I always should be 'correcting.' Sometimes, I think she should just be allowed to be. I didn't try to 'correct' Alex...I let her just be to figure it out on her own, but for Kath everything seems to be a lesson or therapy. I sat there watching them thinking, "I'm so glad we came and played. And that they make me rethink, always, even if it's exhausting."
Down by the water Alex is a dolphin who would LOVE to dive right in. Kath makes me hold her, then she clamps her lips tight. The last time we went to the beach she laughed sea water right in and down her throat. Kath learned quickly to keep her mouth closed, but she learned it to such an excess that even up on my hip, her lips are pursed and locked as she laughs nonstop, although muffled. I finally put her down and made her reapproach the water on her level...and by the end of the day she was doing that great little girl loop of running-and-laughing-like-the-wild-thing-she-is into the little waves then running out onto the beach and still laughing-and- running back into the waves. Watching them, I thought, "This is so freeing, I'm so glad we came."
Then another healing/life lesson was the rip tide. Once they both got their confidence wouldn't you know, the tide shifted and there was a very strong rip tide current. So I had to teach again about how beautiful and fun it looks on the surface, (my little self-life metaphor is it's just like some people, situations, life itself) but yet underneath there is something that wants to just knock you off your feet. Despite this, they still had fun feeling the tug from a safe distance, digging, grabbing shells, running in the winds and laughing deep in their core. Despite the danger, I was glad we were there.
I'm not sure if I really did learn anything earth shattering about healing, but I know that I came to the ocean for some healing and as I watched those clouds, the seagulls and the riptide I was oh, so very glad that I hadn't sat back; that I had risked the day. Instead of staying safe at home, I went to the beach when a storm was possible, and in my effort not to lose any beach time, I dipped my toes into solace, watched my kids just be and have fun and I breathed. Maybe it isn't really about healing (whatever THAT word does mean!)...whether from physical injury, mental insult or injury, or spiritual lags, maybe it's just about waiting the yuck stuff out, hoping the rough stuff passes through quickly, but at the same time keeping your eyes open to the humor, the joy, the inspiration, the teachable moments, the importance of blanket neighbor buddies, and the deep breaths of just being. in. the. moment.
On the way home the girls dug into a bowl of watermelon slices, polishing them off before we reached grandma's and our dinner out-- more stickiness added to the baby powder sand removal, some sun on everyone's skin that eeked around the sunblock...and further proof that worrying about dinner appetites and sticky, sandy skin is for wimps. And if my girls helped to show me anything on this storm-like beach day...it is that we are definitely not Life Wimps. And maybe healing is just a metaphor for getting up and trying again the next day.
I think about how different it is-- for each type as well as for each person.
Three and a half years ago Roger had a roll over car accident, he needed 6 staples to his head, and we believe he has undiagnosed post concussive syndrome. He has memory issues as well as issues with too many stimuli-he can be easily overwhelmed-which is not good for the father of four, high school teacher in an inner city school, early morning newspaper deliverer and husband of ME. He still struggles with parts of it but he isn't as easily flustered now, and believe me, Kath tries. He's trying to find coping strategies that work around his issues.
Nick had his head-on collision with a cinderblock wall five years ago and is diagnosed with post concussive syndrome and he struggles every day with memory, as well as self discipline and assorted other issues. He's still trying to figure out the outer edges of his injury and what his new goals have to be in order to move forward.
Then there's Kath stroke and the myriad of issues that has provided us.
For each of these things that needs healing I notice that it is similar to the other two types...even when one deals with a mental or spiritual 'hit' you have to go through a grieving process, it seems. The mourning for the life path you thought you were on, but are no longer. The person or persons you thought you knew and find you don't. The confusion over 'why' and 'why me' and 'who is driving this boat, anyway?'
Roger and Nick wish they could get those seconds before their accidents back and stop them from happening. I remember thinking and praying I wouldn't have a child with issues, I didn't think I could handle it (I didn't know about Law of Attraction back then, but Nick had just had his accident). However, when I was asked to take tests for different health issues...I chose not to...knowing I would have and want my baby no matter what the tests showed. After Kath was diagnosed, I definitely mourned the life she didn't seem to have a chance at anymore and the life I wouldn't be able to fold back into.
But as I sat on the beach this week I thought a lot about healing. The girls and I went to Long Island to check in on my mother who is healing from spinal surgery (Alex was finally ready for some travel after healing from having her tonsils and adenoids removed) and also so the girls and I could go to the beach.
The forecast for the day we were to go to the beach called for thunderstorms. I decided to go anyway, with the idea that we could sit in the car and eat lunch, while still be breathing in salt air. We weren't going to be fair-weather beach bums. So we packed up towels, sunblock, beach toys, umbrellas, rain boots and off we went.
The clouds were even darker and more foreboding once we arrived at Robert Moses, field five, but we trekked to the water, opened our chairs and pulled out our lunches...and we were not alone. There were several other blanket neighbor families. About three minutes into eating we had our first metaphor for life. Kath put her sandwich on top of the cooler and I thought it fell, so I did the normal mom whine..."Kaaath, you have to watch what you're doing. Now your sandwich is in the ....where is your sandwich?" She just looked at me, and a little beyond me, eyes wide. I turned around and there was a Band of Brothers Brood of Seagulls staring at us, looking a little militant. The sandwich was already consumed and they were looking for the next weak move on our part. It was swallowed whole and they had no qualms about staring us down until we dropped our guard.
Just like in life, sometimes you think you are going along all fine and good and wham...someone snatches away your moment. Or your food. Sometimes it takes the wind right out from under you and startled you just stand and say, "What the hell just happened?" Luckily this time I was semi-prepared. I packed extra sandwiches! And my blanket neighbor buddies all shared in the moment, we laughed and it is a funny story. Now. Especially when Kath tells it in her high breathless squeal, "THE SEAGULL STOLE MY SANDWICH!!!" I thought, "This is fun, I'm so glad we came."
There were boughts of sun as it burned through some clouds. It really did look like it BURNED through too. The sky was covered in strips upon strips of layered clouds but there were areas where the sun lit up the sky in light waves and other times when it blew completely through the clouds...and poured straight down in a perfect circle of a hole that lit up where we happened to be. And I thought, "This is so beautiful, I'm so glad we came."
It did start to rain. One of our blanket neighbor buddies--an older couple with their grandchildren said, "Don't worry, it will pass quickly." I laughed and said, "Ah, spoken like the people who are under an umbrella!" And he laughed and said, "Well, we always have to believe that, don't we? That it'll pass quickly? Or we wouldn't do anything!" And it was suddenly one of those moments where you know you are getting life advice from a wise person...not just a weather report. This couple was one of the healthiest older couples I had ever seen. They ran around and played with the three kids, he swam laps in the ocean and had very fit legs, might I add, in a hopefully nonstalkerish way! And she smiled and laughed with her whole essence. And because he said that, even though I started to pack all of our things into our beach buggy, we stayed and it DID pass quickly. And I thought, "Wow, that is like life, sometimes those storms look so bad and you think you'll have to duck and cover, but all it takes is one person, sometimes a complete stranger to say, "Hey, it's okay..." and you stop the panic and you say..."Hhmmmooookay" and you see those great big raindrops aren't meant to be scary (this time), that the bad did just pass quickly and we can get back on track with our fun. And that was exactly what we did. Sometimes 'bad stuff' isn't horrible and breathtaking, it's just 'notgreat/notgood' and having that reminder is good. I thought, "Wow, I'm really glad we stayed."
Alex build a huge sand castle kingdom. Alex is my shy, focused kid. Very much like Nick use to be when he was younger, and in many ways he still is. She was determined to build this huge kingdom...she brought buckets up and down so many times, and the sand just sucked them up (we were too far away from the water), and she was too stubborn to stop. There was a two foot drop off from the area we had our blanket on to the water (it looked like the state had done some plowing of pushing sand inland) and so she had to go down a little ways where it wasn't so high, and back and forth she continued. Alex was not distracted by the two little grandboys next blanket over who were 'falling' off--in Charlie Chaplin style-- the two foot cliff, she barely looked at them. Well, except to eyeball them and her castle as if to say, "Don't mess with this, grrr." (Come to think of it, she might have learned something of that look from the militant seagulls.) Kath, on the other hand, was belly laughing at their antics...thereby providing an appreciative audience for them and egging them back on.
Side by side my serious girl and my goofball.
Kath lay back in the sand and swung her legs and left arm up and down. "What are you doing?" "I'm making a sand angel!" So I went over and helped her right hand make its path so she could have her angel with two wings. It was an instinct, but maybe I should have let it be. The way she is is fine with me, but I do try to 'fix' it sometimes and I never know if I'm right to. I know it is right for her to have therapy and to work so she can have the most use out of her body with cerebral palsy, but I wonder if I always should be 'correcting.' Sometimes, I think she should just be allowed to be. I didn't try to 'correct' Alex...I let her just be to figure it out on her own, but for Kath everything seems to be a lesson or therapy. I sat there watching them thinking, "I'm so glad we came and played. And that they make me rethink, always, even if it's exhausting."
Down by the water Alex is a dolphin who would LOVE to dive right in. Kath makes me hold her, then she clamps her lips tight. The last time we went to the beach she laughed sea water right in and down her throat. Kath learned quickly to keep her mouth closed, but she learned it to such an excess that even up on my hip, her lips are pursed and locked as she laughs nonstop, although muffled. I finally put her down and made her reapproach the water on her level...and by the end of the day she was doing that great little girl loop of running-and-laughing-like-the-wild-thing-she-is into the little waves then running out onto the beach and still laughing-and- running back into the waves. Watching them, I thought, "This is so freeing, I'm so glad we came."
Then another healing/life lesson was the rip tide. Once they both got their confidence wouldn't you know, the tide shifted and there was a very strong rip tide current. So I had to teach again about how beautiful and fun it looks on the surface, (my little self-life metaphor is it's just like some people, situations, life itself) but yet underneath there is something that wants to just knock you off your feet. Despite this, they still had fun feeling the tug from a safe distance, digging, grabbing shells, running in the winds and laughing deep in their core. Despite the danger, I was glad we were there.
I'm not sure if I really did learn anything earth shattering about healing, but I know that I came to the ocean for some healing and as I watched those clouds, the seagulls and the riptide I was oh, so very glad that I hadn't sat back; that I had risked the day. Instead of staying safe at home, I went to the beach when a storm was possible, and in my effort not to lose any beach time, I dipped my toes into solace, watched my kids just be and have fun and I breathed. Maybe it isn't really about healing (whatever THAT word does mean!)...whether from physical injury, mental insult or injury, or spiritual lags, maybe it's just about waiting the yuck stuff out, hoping the rough stuff passes through quickly, but at the same time keeping your eyes open to the humor, the joy, the inspiration, the teachable moments, the importance of blanket neighbor buddies, and the deep breaths of just being. in. the. moment.
On the way home the girls dug into a bowl of watermelon slices, polishing them off before we reached grandma's and our dinner out-- more stickiness added to the baby powder sand removal, some sun on everyone's skin that eeked around the sunblock...and further proof that worrying about dinner appetites and sticky, sandy skin is for wimps. And if my girls helped to show me anything on this storm-like beach day...it is that we are definitely not Life Wimps. And maybe healing is just a metaphor for getting up and trying again the next day.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
If you haven't hung around a 4 year-old in a while...
I strongly suggest it. As long as your intentions are pure.
Have you ever heard the squeal of a child who is watching a slug inch its way across the pavement and when she accidentally touches it she says it felt like a kiss--wet and squeeshy? I never would think of describing it like that...but she does not yet have the prejudices of 'good' and 'bad' bugs or whatever species they are. All bugs are kinda cool to Kath..except the ones that bite..oh and ants (we've had our fair share of those buggers this year).
"This paper makes me smile; it's fun to write on!" "Why did he say he hated her?" "I playing." "I love you."
How about when a four year old grumbles? That is pretty hilarious. "Grrrrr, where is the garbage pail?!" I moved the garbage pail to a new post in the laundry room yesterday, but since I'm on a cleaning rant it has been following me room to room. So it moved to the front of the pantry and craft area with me today. She looked at me, eyes flashing, "You need to move that back!" She didn't like going to the pail's new spot and finding it gone. She likes things in their spot, even if that spot is only one day old. She especially finds a value to things being put where they belong if she is trying to FIND that object, not necessarily when she is putting that object AWAY herself.
Or how about when they exclaim "Dammit!"? Roger doesn't think it's funny, but of course I think it is. No, I don't want my kids to be cursers, but Kath actually uses the word correctly...when she is extremely frustrated. Yesterday she even had Roger laughing. He asked if she was ready for her second book (at bedtime). She told him, "I have no underwear on!" (How he, who got her ready for bed, wasn't aware of this---I have NO IDEA, but it may help to explain the high level of frustration I have some days and then the shrugging and 'whatever-mode' I alternate between--I cannot make up this insanity.) So Roger told her she had to go get her panties, she left them in the bathroom. She heaved herself up, grumbling, "Dammit!" as she went.
Oh, and as for feeding the animals. Whether it is the birds outside, or the cat, dog or fish inside it is a major production. If we spell C-O-O-K-I-E, Bucca (our Staffordshire Terrier, aka pit bull) goes nuts and tramples (in comedic form) whomever is so kind (crazy) to attempt to get her a dog treat. Moran (our feral, no-longer-quite-so-wild cat) will weave between anyone's legs when she is trying to coax you to the food and bowl. The birds outside will 'yell' at us if we forget to feed them. They sit at the feeder or on the deck and squawk, staring in the windows, until I grab the food and fill the feeder. The squirrels will help themselves if the birdseed is accessible--which it IS to anyone who can chew through plastic containers. The fish...the aquarium is up and running and we finally have Alex's favorite fish, the pleka AKA the sucker fish. The girls fight over who gets to feed the fish and who gets to feed the sucker. However, no one fights over cleaning the tank or the kitty litter box.
I love the sounds of my two little girls playing in the playroom. Amazingly cool. I love when they play 'family' and 'the mom' sounds so kind and loving. (Whew! :D) And I love when they play school and say how much they love to learn. I love the spontaneous concerts of songs sung at the tops of their lungs, I've missed that while Miss Alex heals. I love too how Kath will just sit down and play with playdo, imagine sandy worlds in the indoor sandbox or find fun books to look at. And how much Alex loves to read and write and draw. Alex's healing from getting her tonsils and adenoids removed has been slower than we hoped but she's starting to play more, a sure sign of recovery.
"I found the book we jump in!!!" (It was Winnie-the-Pooh, Kath saw the movie coming attractions where Christopher Robin jumps into the book.) "I had a dream a penguin came home!" "Hold me, I had a bad dream."
My, how little kids love with their whole being! "You are the best mommy in the whole world!" That's something I hear daily from my 4 and 7 year-olds, but rarely from my 22 and 23 year-olds. :) Not that they don't think it (haha) but once we become adults we don't tend to GUSH our love so openly and unconditionally.
When people say to me..."You were almost 'done.' Why were you so crazy as to have more kids when the boys were almost out of the house?" I say and I mean it--now more than ever: Because I never want my house to be empty of little voices that belly laugh, point out how clever slugs are, or how amazing sucker fish are. I never want to forget how wonderful the lens is which kids look at life, unprejudiced by the things adults allow to fog up their life's windshields. Because when I sit and talk to my little girls I see what really matters and I breathe a whole different air than I do otherwise. The only other time I get to feel that way is when I write, when I try to recreate those worlds where a person can just jump in and get absorbed by a book, like Christopher Robin.
I want to be the one who has playdo in my nails, crayons in my pocketbook and a sandbox in my foyer...forever. I want to be the person who watches that sucker fish wiggle around and says, "Hey! Look at that guy!" I want to be the life experienced 43 year-old woman I am with the perspective, optimism and love of a 4 year-old and the wisdom, kindness and appreciation of a 7 year-old.
This is my new life goal.
Have you ever heard the squeal of a child who is watching a slug inch its way across the pavement and when she accidentally touches it she says it felt like a kiss--wet and squeeshy? I never would think of describing it like that...but she does not yet have the prejudices of 'good' and 'bad' bugs or whatever species they are. All bugs are kinda cool to Kath..except the ones that bite..oh and ants (we've had our fair share of those buggers this year).
"This paper makes me smile; it's fun to write on!" "Why did he say he hated her?" "I playing." "I love you."
How about when a four year old grumbles? That is pretty hilarious. "Grrrrr, where is the garbage pail?!" I moved the garbage pail to a new post in the laundry room yesterday, but since I'm on a cleaning rant it has been following me room to room. So it moved to the front of the pantry and craft area with me today. She looked at me, eyes flashing, "You need to move that back!" She didn't like going to the pail's new spot and finding it gone. She likes things in their spot, even if that spot is only one day old. She especially finds a value to things being put where they belong if she is trying to FIND that object, not necessarily when she is putting that object AWAY herself.
Or how about when they exclaim "Dammit!"? Roger doesn't think it's funny, but of course I think it is. No, I don't want my kids to be cursers, but Kath actually uses the word correctly...when she is extremely frustrated. Yesterday she even had Roger laughing. He asked if she was ready for her second book (at bedtime). She told him, "I have no underwear on!" (How he, who got her ready for bed, wasn't aware of this---I have NO IDEA, but it may help to explain the high level of frustration I have some days and then the shrugging and 'whatever-mode' I alternate between--I cannot make up this insanity.) So Roger told her she had to go get her panties, she left them in the bathroom. She heaved herself up, grumbling, "Dammit!" as she went.
Oh, and as for feeding the animals. Whether it is the birds outside, or the cat, dog or fish inside it is a major production. If we spell C-O-O-K-I-E, Bucca (our Staffordshire Terrier, aka pit bull) goes nuts and tramples (in comedic form) whomever is so kind (crazy) to attempt to get her a dog treat. Moran (our feral, no-longer-quite-so-wild cat) will weave between anyone's legs when she is trying to coax you to the food and bowl. The birds outside will 'yell' at us if we forget to feed them. They sit at the feeder or on the deck and squawk, staring in the windows, until I grab the food and fill the feeder. The squirrels will help themselves if the birdseed is accessible--which it IS to anyone who can chew through plastic containers. The fish...the aquarium is up and running and we finally have Alex's favorite fish, the pleka AKA the sucker fish. The girls fight over who gets to feed the fish and who gets to feed the sucker. However, no one fights over cleaning the tank or the kitty litter box.
I love the sounds of my two little girls playing in the playroom. Amazingly cool. I love when they play 'family' and 'the mom' sounds so kind and loving. (Whew! :D) And I love when they play school and say how much they love to learn. I love the spontaneous concerts of songs sung at the tops of their lungs, I've missed that while Miss Alex heals. I love too how Kath will just sit down and play with playdo, imagine sandy worlds in the indoor sandbox or find fun books to look at. And how much Alex loves to read and write and draw. Alex's healing from getting her tonsils and adenoids removed has been slower than we hoped but she's starting to play more, a sure sign of recovery.
"I found the book we jump in!!!" (It was Winnie-the-Pooh, Kath saw the movie coming attractions where Christopher Robin jumps into the book.) "I had a dream a penguin came home!" "Hold me, I had a bad dream."
My, how little kids love with their whole being! "You are the best mommy in the whole world!" That's something I hear daily from my 4 and 7 year-olds, but rarely from my 22 and 23 year-olds. :) Not that they don't think it (haha) but once we become adults we don't tend to GUSH our love so openly and unconditionally.
When people say to me..."You were almost 'done.' Why were you so crazy as to have more kids when the boys were almost out of the house?" I say and I mean it--now more than ever: Because I never want my house to be empty of little voices that belly laugh, point out how clever slugs are, or how amazing sucker fish are. I never want to forget how wonderful the lens is which kids look at life, unprejudiced by the things adults allow to fog up their life's windshields. Because when I sit and talk to my little girls I see what really matters and I breathe a whole different air than I do otherwise. The only other time I get to feel that way is when I write, when I try to recreate those worlds where a person can just jump in and get absorbed by a book, like Christopher Robin.
I want to be the one who has playdo in my nails, crayons in my pocketbook and a sandbox in my foyer...forever. I want to be the person who watches that sucker fish wiggle around and says, "Hey! Look at that guy!" I want to be the life experienced 43 year-old woman I am with the perspective, optimism and love of a 4 year-old and the wisdom, kindness and appreciation of a 7 year-old.
This is my new life goal.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Book Review for Goodreads for Persuasion by Jane Austin
Persuasion by Jane AustenMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Jane Austin managed to write books that were not simply romances, not simply cultural/societal tellers for the time period, but also studies in human behavior. I never thought of the similarities between the Cinderella story and this until I did some further reading on the book.
I read this book awhile ago and enjoyed it, but now that I reread it I think I must have been sleeping when I first read it. Here is a story of a person who has made a decision when she was 19, has to live with it and around it for 8 and half years until she can somehow try to fix it and reclaim her life.
There are so many really great literary parts to it but the story itself...I was never impressed with Anne Elliot. I thought she was weak to have been persuaded so easily, until I remembered (especially now that I am OLDER) how easily it is to be unsure of one's self, especially at 19. She spent the next 8 1/2 years living her life, taking care of others and keeping true to herself. She didn't believe in the societal trappings of needing to marry for the sake of marriage and since she feels she threw away her chance at love, she stays single.
Throughout the book we see Anne Elliot's softness and her quietness is often overlooked as a sign of weakness. But underneath she is a strong person who is trapped in her time. Well, until Captain Frederick Wentworth steps back into her life that is. He is still the man who makes her stomach flip, but she stands aside as he seems ready to chose another. She has no claim. However, once he is at liberty (minor misunderstanding that almost traps him in Lyme), she makes sure he knows her feelings and she steps back into his life, literally at the concert and figuratively with her philosophy about how a woman loves longest with Captain Harville. Captain Wentworth is a man worthy of Anne, he has stayed true to her and he writes an incredible letter asking her to say once and for all, is there still a chance?
At the same time as all this soul piercing love is going on, we see the silliness of Anne's own family as they feel they are worthier and better looking than they are. I enjoyed how dimensional all the side characters were designed. We get to see how important connections were to the society levels, and how easy it was to get away with being a false person. We see the trappings of this time period and how people either rise above it or succumb to being caricatures of themselves.
I enjoyed Ms Austin's language, her story and her ability to grip your heart as you breathed life with the characters then also laughed with the absurdities. I will definitely be rereading this one. Again.
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Sunday, August 7, 2011
Book Review for Goodreads for Princess School:If the Shoe Fits
Princess School: If the Shoe Fits by Jane B. MasonMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Ugh. I just wrote a pretty long review and something made it disappear.
And of course I didn't save it first. Ugh. Anyway...
My 7 year old has been eating and loving these books. Her eyes light up when she reads them. She even has to put the book down sometimes because she gets so upset with some action a character did. She asked me to read these books along with her and I said yes, but it really did just go on the bottom of my own huge mental pile of books-to-read until I was trapped under a sleeping child and this book was the only thing I could reach.
I was very grateful and happy that Jane Mason and Sarah Hines Stephens are so good at telling a good story. By using the main princess characters that many of us know, with peeks at a few other fairy tale characters (Red Riding Hood), these authors weave the story of 'before they were famous.' This book is about Ella and how she not only has to deal with her horrible backstory (abusive family, yes a silent father is abusive in this situation), but also school, fitting in, figuring out who she is, clothes that don't fit and are rags, bone wearying chores, and dealing with other girls who bully.
Overall, I found the voice of this story easy to get into and easy to like. I found that what and how the authors were saying was a really great and powerful message for young girls to hear. Life is tough sometimes, but a magic wand will not solve your problems, however if you study hard, work hard and do the right thing (even when it is hard) and surround yourself with a strong support group of friends you can weather anything.
I will not worry about my daughter being so absorbed in these stories. They are well-written with a good message told by likable characters who don't get a wand and a fairy godmother to get them out of the difficult times, they have to use their brains and count on their friends. This was a good read.
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