The three weeks or so leading up to the start of this new job were really disheartening for me.
The people I shared the news with IRL seemed less than pleased about the prospects of me taking this job. For many, many reasons. Reasons like my safety & well-being, how I will tackle my classes while working a crappy shift, getting Connor to and from school, etc.
And let me explain something about where I was going to be working. I would be working at a facility that has been operating at double-occupancy for pre-adjudicated juveniles. There are kids sitting in that facility right now who have been sitting in there for over a year awaiting their Superior Court trial for murder.
For many kids, in that section of the detention facility where I would be working, there is a revolving door.
There is a heightened sense of tension in there. Kids that come in don't know when their leaving, what their outcome will be. Many times, there families are done with them, so they don't get visits.
And often, the ones that have been in the detention facility for awhile see their friends leave or have visits from family.
It's just a really tense place.
Anyway....
You all know I have stressed out about this for far too long. I've chronicled that pity-fest for so very long
I would come home from training & tell Rav stories about staff members who were assaulted and are still out on leave because of their injuries.
And Rav, trying to be supportive of my decision, told me I would be fine.
But then.....
Then he started hearing first-hand accounts from coworkers (who used to work in that facility) just how off the hook it is.
And he didn't say anything. He was trying to be supportive.
Last week, I sat talking to my BFF on the phone. And she noted how awful I sounded. I told her that the transition has been hard, I was not getting any straight answers from anyone regarding my shift, if I would be alone on a locked unit, etc. That I was just not feeling this. It just wasn't feeling right. Whatever that is. And rather than feel better as time went on & making peace with the changes, it has been feeling increasingly worse.
I got off the phone with her and turned to Rav and said, I so want to ask her if she would hire me back to work at the preschool.
And then I cried, no scratch that, I sobbed for about 40 minutes.
I explained to Rav that I feel guilty because I feel like I am not doing a great job as a mom because I'm working and yet I feel like I'm letting my family down financially because I want to walk away from this job. That everything about this feels so wrong.
Rav was supportive and great -as he always is.
I wiped away the snot and the tears and I called my BFF back and asked her if she would consider hiring me as a teacher at the preschool she owns and operates (the preschool I have worked at for years before leaving to stay home with the kids). And she was surprised.
See. Way back when I was nursing Gracie and Connor was just barely 2, I opened my big mouth and said I would never work at the preschool again. I just didn't think I had it in me.
So, you understand her surprise. We talked and I explained why I had said that.
And it has come to pass that I will be working at the preschool.
I have handed in my resignation at the detention facility and gladly take on this new/old position.
And it feels right.
Getting Connor to and from school? Not an issue.
Taking my classes to finally finish my degree? No sweat. In fact, I'm carrying 5 classes this semester and feeling damned good about it.
Taking care of my family? No biggie.
Working almost full-time? Maybe still not financially setting the world on fire. BUT. It's an income and is a much better fit for all of us.
I have felt a 10 ton weight lift from my back.
We have partied this weekend with some old friends and made some new ones.
I feel a love and admiration for my man grow by leaps with every new hurdle.
And my daughter curled up on my lap and lay like a baby - she wrapped herself in a blanket - and just stayed there, looking up at me as I rubbed her cheeks and whispered to her. She even followed me into the shower, the actual shower.
Connor has been happy to be home and have me home.
And I know that I've done the right thing.
The right thing for me and my family.
And I once again have learned that I should listen to my gut.
Not only that, walking away and/or running away, sometimes aren't bad things.
I do have guilt about the possible irresponsibility of this.
As well as, guilt towards 120+ kids I've never met. 120+ kids who will not have me work in the facility. Someone who would show them kindness and compassion and empathy. My bleeding heart can't reconcile that part. That I can't put my money where my mouth is. I talk about wanting to help and feeling so much for so many. And I walked away.
And maybe in time I will be able to reconcile it without rationalizing too much.
My time will come to do it. I know that.
I think right now though, my place is still right here.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I want to thank you all for your support of me during this time. Listening to my constant whining when so many other bloggers out there are facing really frightening health scares and real issues.
I have climbed out of my self-pity pit.
I'm back, baby.
8/13/07
8/12/07
Sunday Morning Song Of The Moment, by Rav.
It has been several days since Tabba has posted anything. I thought I would post the song of the day today for her. As you all know, Tab recently took a position and began her training. She has had a pretty rough two weeks. This song is one of my favorites, as it never fails to remind me of all of the things we do for each other. All of the sacrifices and hardships we endure, for one another. It makes me realize that no matter how crazy life gets, we can always make things better just by being together. Tab may have posted this one before, but I couldn't find it in the archives. If so, who cares, we could all use a little more dixie chicks...
8/6/07
Summer Doldrums
I've noticed that, as the summer heats up and the days meld into one another, I have become less and less active out here in this blogging community that I have found.
The thoughts are harder to grasp at.
I have to scratch and dig and heave.
The raw emotions and passionate thoughts are not flowing like the river that they once were.
My mind has become an arrid wasteland.
Every so often a thought bumbles and rolls around inside my head and is quickly gone.
Much like the tumbleweed in a bad Western movie.
It makes its entrance.
Skitters across the screen.
And then it is gone.
The flame and flicker of my heart, my passionate heart
my often electric mind and spirit
is a tiny, dull blue flame.
It is still there.
Just not quite the presence it once was.
I stare at my blog page, my sidebar, and long for you all.
I long for your stories.
And I long to comment.
I find that it is all an immense effort.
To construct a post.
To comment properly.
Reading is the easy part.
It's just trying to get around to all of you whom I adore.
And to comment.
What I am finding though, is that many of you seem to be in a similar boat.
That there are larger gaps of time between posts.
Which is to be expected.
The summer is a busy time.
However, what I am detecting is a tired.
A blanket of blue.
Is that my perceptions/projections?
Or are a lot of just feeling.....
meh?
The thoughts are harder to grasp at.
I have to scratch and dig and heave.
The raw emotions and passionate thoughts are not flowing like the river that they once were.
My mind has become an arrid wasteland.
Every so often a thought bumbles and rolls around inside my head and is quickly gone.
Much like the tumbleweed in a bad Western movie.
It makes its entrance.
Skitters across the screen.
And then it is gone.
The flame and flicker of my heart, my passionate heart
my often electric mind and spirit
is a tiny, dull blue flame.
It is still there.
Just not quite the presence it once was.
I stare at my blog page, my sidebar, and long for you all.
I long for your stories.
And I long to comment.
I find that it is all an immense effort.
To construct a post.
To comment properly.
Reading is the easy part.
It's just trying to get around to all of you whom I adore.
And to comment.
What I am finding though, is that many of you seem to be in a similar boat.
That there are larger gaps of time between posts.
Which is to be expected.
The summer is a busy time.
However, what I am detecting is a tired.
A blanket of blue.
Is that my perceptions/projections?
Or are a lot of just feeling.....
meh?
8/5/07
Another Saturday In August
Yesterday, my BFF's middle child, her son, was united in wedded bliss.
Are you scratching your head over that one?
Yes. I did say my BFF. She's a bit older than me. By 20 years.
That's just how I roll people. Most of my peeps are older than I.
Anyway. It was her son's wedding & I woke up not feeling up to attending.
Not because I didn't want to go and have a fun night or celebrate this relationship, this marriage, between the lovely couple.
But because that meant another day (and night) away from my kids.
A month ago, I was salivating over the thought of the kids spending the night away from us.
Now?
Now it is totally different.
Gracie had fallen asleep while I was getting ready - tearfully - getting ready.
I did my hair and makeup (holy shit, I wore makeup) all while she drifted on cotton candy clouds and held onto the wings of butterflies.
When she woke up, I was standing at the end of the bed, fully dressed and getting my shoes on.
Gracie popped up and looked at me wide-eyed and said Wow, Mommy. Look at you!!
Buttah, I tell you. I melted like buttah.
Anyway, after dropping them off with my mom to spend the night, we headed off to the church.
The ceremony was lovely. My BFF looked stunning, her son handsome and the bride beautiful.
The reception was held at a lovely place along the water.
Drinking was done, but not in excess, between Rav & I.
My BFF even threw back a few - which she rarely does.
We all hit the dance floor and barely took time to stop cutting it up.
Our heads thrown back, our mouths wide open.
Laughing, chuckling, yelling, hooting.
To see my friend so happy, to see her let go like that made me so happy.
To dance, and sing, and grind with my man on the dance floor made me so happy.
And when I picked up the kids I missed them
I really, really missed them.
And I've been trying to make sure I capture every moment and make it as quality as I possibly can.
For tomorrow starts another week.
Congratulations, J & D. You two make such a beautiful couple. I know that there will be many, many years of happiness ahead of you.
And yes, YOU looked gorgeous my darling. You were radiant and glowing.
And I am so proud to be your friend.
Are you scratching your head over that one?
Yes. I did say my BFF. She's a bit older than me. By 20 years.
That's just how I roll people. Most of my peeps are older than I.
Anyway. It was her son's wedding & I woke up not feeling up to attending.
Not because I didn't want to go and have a fun night or celebrate this relationship, this marriage, between the lovely couple.
But because that meant another day (and night) away from my kids.
A month ago, I was salivating over the thought of the kids spending the night away from us.
Now?
Now it is totally different.
Gracie had fallen asleep while I was getting ready - tearfully - getting ready.
I did my hair and makeup (holy shit, I wore makeup) all while she drifted on cotton candy clouds and held onto the wings of butterflies.
When she woke up, I was standing at the end of the bed, fully dressed and getting my shoes on.
Gracie popped up and looked at me wide-eyed and said Wow, Mommy. Look at you!!
Buttah, I tell you. I melted like buttah.
Anyway, after dropping them off with my mom to spend the night, we headed off to the church.
The ceremony was lovely. My BFF looked stunning, her son handsome and the bride beautiful.
The reception was held at a lovely place along the water.
Drinking was done, but not in excess, between Rav & I.
My BFF even threw back a few - which she rarely does.
We all hit the dance floor and barely took time to stop cutting it up.
Our heads thrown back, our mouths wide open.
Laughing, chuckling, yelling, hooting.
To see my friend so happy, to see her let go like that made me so happy.
To dance, and sing, and grind with my man on the dance floor made me so happy.
And when I picked up the kids I missed them
I really, really missed them.
And I've been trying to make sure I capture every moment and make it as quality as I possibly can.
For tomorrow starts another week.
Congratulations, J & D. You two make such a beautiful couple. I know that there will be many, many years of happiness ahead of you.
And yes, YOU looked gorgeous my darling. You were radiant and glowing.
And I am so proud to be your friend.
8/4/07
Longing A Little
I am emotionally and physically exhausted.
The last part of the week kicked my rear pretty good.
While it wasn't as crazy in regards to shuttling the kids and the adults to and from where they need to be, it was tough in the aspect of sitting in a conference room for 8 hours listening to spearkers about suicide awareness, emergency procedures, eyeing up a box of confiscated contraband, and listening to tales of escaped juveniles and attacked staff.
It's a lot to take in all at once.
I have to say, it totally sucks that I can't check in on everyone out here in blogland like I would like. I'm not able to comment and barely able to post anything riveting.
I'm simply too tired and too pressed for time.
That being said, I find myself thinking of you all during the course of the day.
I have been drawing strength from the supportive, caring comments that you are leaving me.
And I can't thank you enough for this friendship that I did not expect to find when I started this wee little blog a year ago.
Hang in with me while I adjust.
Trying to find time to do all of the things I need and want to do is a balancing act that I have to work out. And it's not a strong point of mine.
While I may not be commenting, I'm popping in and reading when I can.
And I am thinking of you all.
The last part of the week kicked my rear pretty good.
While it wasn't as crazy in regards to shuttling the kids and the adults to and from where they need to be, it was tough in the aspect of sitting in a conference room for 8 hours listening to spearkers about suicide awareness, emergency procedures, eyeing up a box of confiscated contraband, and listening to tales of escaped juveniles and attacked staff.
It's a lot to take in all at once.
I have to say, it totally sucks that I can't check in on everyone out here in blogland like I would like. I'm not able to comment and barely able to post anything riveting.
I'm simply too tired and too pressed for time.
That being said, I find myself thinking of you all during the course of the day.
I have been drawing strength from the supportive, caring comments that you are leaving me.
And I can't thank you enough for this friendship that I did not expect to find when I started this wee little blog a year ago.
Hang in with me while I adjust.
Trying to find time to do all of the things I need and want to do is a balancing act that I have to work out. And it's not a strong point of mine.
While I may not be commenting, I'm popping in and reading when I can.
And I am thinking of you all.
7/31/07
Day Two
Aaaaah. Day two in the bag.
It's been interesting these first two days.
On many, many levels.
Getting up early?
Not so bad.
Cut-throat drivers, break-neck speeds, drivers who drive like they are the only ones on the road?
Going against my grain.
I didn't realize just how "slow" I was taking it.
Transporting little ones on semi-deserted roads in the middle of the afternoon & having basically no need to drive at rush hour.
The rush-rush, the ants marching ordeal. I dislike. I dislike very much.
But it's part of the deal.
The actual "work" part of it?
Eh. It's training.
Policies. Procedures.
Procedures. Policies.
Today we talked about Juvenile Justice, supervising juveniles, and juveniles' rights.
I eat that stuff up like candy.
While I don't like to hear about how broken these children are, their families, and even the systems which are meant to help and protect these children, I like hearing about the process. I like hearing about the kids who have had positive outcomes. I like hearing about how I can impact a juvenile.
It has been brought to our attention many times during training about how being "in" a locked facility, has been the only stability and safety some of these kids have ever known.
While the trainers talked, many new ideas have popped up in my mind about ways we can empower some of these kids - which felt very exciting. Knowing that this center and this program is open to ideas from the staff and willing to support these ideas.
The most interesting part - in my opinion - of the past two days has been observing the people in my class. There are 15 of us in the class & out of those 15 only 7 are female. I'm accustomed to working primarily in early childhood, where the vast majority of the workers are female. And in my naive mind, I assumed this would be the same way. And what is even more interesting and uplifting is the fact that there are so many males, who come from various community-based organizations, who are minorities.
(I hope I'm not offending anyone here, it is just my observation)
I think it is wonderful to see positive male role models for the juvenile male population that we'll be working with. Males they can truly look up to and be inspired by. Men that seem devoted to this work and helping these at-risk and delinquent youths.
The role of the men in our society is changing & I have seen time and again men step up to that challenge & it is a wonderful thing to see. First-hand.
That being said, yes, I am exhausted. I'm missing Rav, the kids, and blogging more than I can say. But I'm trying to make the best of this. I'm trying to look at this opportunity as a first step. And all in all, I am enjoying it.
We'll see if I'm singing the same tunes when I'm on an actual unit with 20 young men who are bent on making my life hell.
For now, I'm enjoying though.
It's been interesting these first two days.
On many, many levels.
Getting up early?
Not so bad.
Cut-throat drivers, break-neck speeds, drivers who drive like they are the only ones on the road?
Going against my grain.
I didn't realize just how "slow" I was taking it.
Transporting little ones on semi-deserted roads in the middle of the afternoon & having basically no need to drive at rush hour.
The rush-rush, the ants marching ordeal. I dislike. I dislike very much.
But it's part of the deal.
The actual "work" part of it?
Eh. It's training.
Policies. Procedures.
Procedures. Policies.
Today we talked about Juvenile Justice, supervising juveniles, and juveniles' rights.
I eat that stuff up like candy.
While I don't like to hear about how broken these children are, their families, and even the systems which are meant to help and protect these children, I like hearing about the process. I like hearing about the kids who have had positive outcomes. I like hearing about how I can impact a juvenile.
It has been brought to our attention many times during training about how being "in" a locked facility, has been the only stability and safety some of these kids have ever known.
While the trainers talked, many new ideas have popped up in my mind about ways we can empower some of these kids - which felt very exciting. Knowing that this center and this program is open to ideas from the staff and willing to support these ideas.
The most interesting part - in my opinion - of the past two days has been observing the people in my class. There are 15 of us in the class & out of those 15 only 7 are female. I'm accustomed to working primarily in early childhood, where the vast majority of the workers are female. And in my naive mind, I assumed this would be the same way. And what is even more interesting and uplifting is the fact that there are so many males, who come from various community-based organizations, who are minorities.
(I hope I'm not offending anyone here, it is just my observation)
I think it is wonderful to see positive male role models for the juvenile male population that we'll be working with. Males they can truly look up to and be inspired by. Men that seem devoted to this work and helping these at-risk and delinquent youths.
The role of the men in our society is changing & I have seen time and again men step up to that challenge & it is a wonderful thing to see. First-hand.
That being said, yes, I am exhausted. I'm missing Rav, the kids, and blogging more than I can say. But I'm trying to make the best of this. I'm trying to look at this opportunity as a first step. And all in all, I am enjoying it.
We'll see if I'm singing the same tunes when I'm on an actual unit with 20 young men who are bent on making my life hell.
For now, I'm enjoying though.
7/30/07
First Day Jitters
Today is my first day at the new job.
Two weeks of training. And then, the real thing.
I'm working myself up to that point.
Right now, I'm just trying to get through today.
The past 3-4 years is flashing in front and behind me.
Endless questions.
And deep hope that I did the best I could do with the time that I had at home with my babies.
Yes, I know I did a lot.
I fear that it wasn't enough.
And now it's gone.
I hate that times are how they are and I'm forced, basically, to do this.
It's not a matter of choice.
It is have to.
I'm nervous and scared.
I'm surprised at myself and the fact that I slept last night & have been able to eat breakfast.
Usually those are the first two things that go when I'm nervous.
Though, I had a dream I was married to Christopher (Micheal Imperioli) from The Sopranos, and that while I was in the house with Gracie, the family took a hit out on him.
They spared us though.
Well, wish me luck.
I miss the kids already.
Two weeks of training. And then, the real thing.
I'm working myself up to that point.
Right now, I'm just trying to get through today.
The past 3-4 years is flashing in front and behind me.
Endless questions.
And deep hope that I did the best I could do with the time that I had at home with my babies.
Yes, I know I did a lot.
I fear that it wasn't enough.
And now it's gone.
I hate that times are how they are and I'm forced, basically, to do this.
It's not a matter of choice.
It is have to.
I'm nervous and scared.
I'm surprised at myself and the fact that I slept last night & have been able to eat breakfast.
Usually those are the first two things that go when I'm nervous.
Though, I had a dream I was married to Christopher (Micheal Imperioli) from The Sopranos, and that while I was in the house with Gracie, the family took a hit out on him.
They spared us though.
Well, wish me luck.
I miss the kids already.
7/27/07
Another Birthday - the big 5
Today is Connor's birthday.
This evening at 7:27 on 7/27 he was born.
The young master turns 5.
When I look back at the pictures it seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then.
And yet it seems that time did a marathon and it was a mere minute ago.
Connor was a surprise. We didn't plan to get pregnant.
But I felt a peace I have never known when I was carrying him and for the first 2 years of his life.
Peace has given way to chaos. But that's OK. That's how it should be.
My boy. My little, quirky, smart, spirited boy.
Today he is 5.
7/26/07
Card Holding Member Of Geekdom
In the midst of my panic and anxiety (yes, I know...you're sick of hearing about it. And quite frankly, I'm sick of feeling it. It's on its way out. Promise) I have been geeking out. A lot.I have been so wrapped up in birthdays and summer activities, mini-vacations and anxiety that I haven't even blogged about it. But now I will.
First let me say that as I type this, I should be on a plane heading to Chicago with the rest of all those cool gals. But it was not meant to be.
Anway.......
I've been geeking out because of Harry Potter. Within a week I've seen the new movie and bought the new book. The movie was one of the better ones, I feel. However, as most fans of the series who read the books, I was bummed about some of the things that had to be left out of the movie. I know that is unavoidable. But all in all, a pretty good movie. And just to show you what a geek I am (and those of you who have seen the movie will know what I am talking about here), I had goosebumps. Yes, goosebumps when The Aurors showed up in the movie and when they were flying over the river. Do you know which scene I am speaking of?
I have/had regrets about watching the new movie and reading the new book as I have forgotten many details in Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. But Rav has been happy to remind me of the minor details as he has been a good little nargle and re-read the books (and re-read and re-read).
The book....oh, the book. I will not spoil anything here. Promise.
Rav finished the book in a blink. He's a crazy, fast reader.
Me? I take a bit longer. It took me about 2 1/2 days. Of nonstop reading.
The first 300-400 pages? For whatever reason....total snooze fest for me. It wasn't bad. It just reminded me of Order of the Phoenix when I read it. Not much went on in the beginning. I was becoming agitated and just wanted J.K. to get on with the damned story already.
She didn't let me down. I have to say that I am sad to see it end. But happy with the outcome. I think this book will make one wicked, kick-ass movie.
To invited geekdom further into my life, any of you who read the books and read my blog...feel free to email and I'd be happy to discuss the book and the latest movie.
I need distraction from my longing/jealousy over missing out on Blogher (and my unused, nonrefundable plane tickets).
Yeah, I'm whining. Just a little though ;)
7/23/07
infinite love + unrelenting guilt = a mother
Lately, I've been grappling with the guilt and questions that come with being a Momma.
A momma who is struggling to hold herself & her family up in the middle of the biggest transition.
And I know other Momma's out there are facing similar things.
That guilt that creeps in.
The guilt that is the gift that keeps on giving when you become a Momma.
As endless the love is that we have for our children
so is the guilt.
The love for them is as vast as the sky. There is no beginning. There is no end. It simply is.
And unfortunately that guilt can be just as endless. It can be the giant rain cloud that covers up the beautiful blue sky. And we have to learn to navigate around it.
Not always an easy task.
We are faced with this tremendously awe-inspiring task of caring for a totally dependent individual.
A constant vigil.
It never ends.
In fact, it happens so quickly and fiercely that you can't even see the point at which it started.
There is no definitive moment.
Some may say that this vigil, the watch guard post - and the guilt - begins upon finding out you are now carrying this new life within.
Some may say that it occurs when you've decided natural childbirth is archaic and the decision to opt out for a relatively pain-free delivery. And that is a relative term, mind you. Pain free delivery. Yeah, uh-huh, sure.
Some say that it begins the moment that new life is physically in your arms.
But it happens. And again, the process is so swift, so thorough that it really is hard to determine when it happens. But it does.
So as new mothers - or just mothers - we take on this monumental task of constant caring, nurturing, rearing, guiding, loving, empathizing, hurting, pining. You name it, we are i-n-ging it. But we're happy to do it. It's the greatest of works. The fruits of constant tending and work that cannot be compared to anything else.
The power we possess so raw, so carnal. The ability to alert or cloudy-eyed cubs of our presence by just walking in the room - because of our scent.
The power to soothe with the merest of hums in tiny, sweet ears.
The power to comfort and protect with the warmness of our breast and arms, wrapping our cubs in the thickest of fortresses.
But with that power comes awesome responsibility.
And with that responsibility comes questions, swift looks back and hoping that it went well.
We wonder quietly, if we did any damage on those days where we were weary from an all-nighter and operated on auto-pilot.
We wonder if those days where we are frazzled beyond oblivion when all we can do is bleat-bleat answers - not ever really hearing the questions. And realize as head hits pillow that they are moments that are forever lost.
But we try.
We work our hearts and fingers to nubs.
We never fully take credit for the wonders that we are responsible for.
Instead, we second-guess.
We think that it's never enough.
We think it's all wrong. We're doing it all wrong.
And certainly, it's never story-book.
But considering what we're up against, we're pretty damned good at it.
If we asked our kids who were the best mommies in the whole-wide-world, what do we think the answer would be?
And true, some day they may question our abilities, our actions, our intentions, or how well we did.
But in time, they do come around and see just how hard we tried.
How hard we did.
How much we loved
and still love.
Mistakes will be made.
Yes.
Absolutely no doubt.
But in between the mistakes, and the guilt, the brand new cub and the adult they grow up to be is the best of us. The best of us that we give to them. And that questioning and the guilt shows just how seriously we take this job. We want to do it just right.
And if we didn't question, if we didn't care - we wouldn't wear our guilt and worry like the hottest new skirt or shoes for all to see.
In that time -the in betweens - are the moments that rest on sleepy eyelashes, toddler giggles, and chubby-armed hugs, the dirty fingerprints on everything, the countless buttercups handed over to us, the campy arts and crafts, the pb&j kisses. Those moments are just for us.
And we work so hard for them. We don't ask for them. They are handed over so lovingly, so generously.
The guilt is an occupational hazard, for sure.
It's there to stay.
But.
They'll be OK.
And so will we. I think.
Yeah.
So will we.
A momma who is struggling to hold herself & her family up in the middle of the biggest transition.
And I know other Momma's out there are facing similar things.
That guilt that creeps in.
The guilt that is the gift that keeps on giving when you become a Momma.
As endless the love is that we have for our children
so is the guilt.
The love for them is as vast as the sky. There is no beginning. There is no end. It simply is.
And unfortunately that guilt can be just as endless. It can be the giant rain cloud that covers up the beautiful blue sky. And we have to learn to navigate around it.
Not always an easy task.
We are faced with this tremendously awe-inspiring task of caring for a totally dependent individual.
A constant vigil.
It never ends.
In fact, it happens so quickly and fiercely that you can't even see the point at which it started.
There is no definitive moment.
Some may say that this vigil, the watch guard post - and the guilt - begins upon finding out you are now carrying this new life within.
Some may say that it occurs when you've decided natural childbirth is archaic and the decision to opt out for a relatively pain-free delivery. And that is a relative term, mind you. Pain free delivery. Yeah, uh-huh, sure.
Some say that it begins the moment that new life is physically in your arms.
But it happens. And again, the process is so swift, so thorough that it really is hard to determine when it happens. But it does.
So as new mothers - or just mothers - we take on this monumental task of constant caring, nurturing, rearing, guiding, loving, empathizing, hurting, pining. You name it, we are i-n-ging it. But we're happy to do it. It's the greatest of works. The fruits of constant tending and work that cannot be compared to anything else.
The power we possess so raw, so carnal. The ability to alert or cloudy-eyed cubs of our presence by just walking in the room - because of our scent.
The power to soothe with the merest of hums in tiny, sweet ears.
The power to comfort and protect with the warmness of our breast and arms, wrapping our cubs in the thickest of fortresses.
But with that power comes awesome responsibility.
And with that responsibility comes questions, swift looks back and hoping that it went well.
We wonder quietly, if we did any damage on those days where we were weary from an all-nighter and operated on auto-pilot.
We wonder if those days where we are frazzled beyond oblivion when all we can do is bleat-bleat answers - not ever really hearing the questions. And realize as head hits pillow that they are moments that are forever lost.
But we try.
We work our hearts and fingers to nubs.
We never fully take credit for the wonders that we are responsible for.
Instead, we second-guess.
We think that it's never enough.
We think it's all wrong. We're doing it all wrong.
And certainly, it's never story-book.
But considering what we're up against, we're pretty damned good at it.
If we asked our kids who were the best mommies in the whole-wide-world, what do we think the answer would be?
And true, some day they may question our abilities, our actions, our intentions, or how well we did.
But in time, they do come around and see just how hard we tried.
How hard we did.
How much we loved
and still love.
Mistakes will be made.
Yes.
Absolutely no doubt.
But in between the mistakes, and the guilt, the brand new cub and the adult they grow up to be is the best of us. The best of us that we give to them. And that questioning and the guilt shows just how seriously we take this job. We want to do it just right.
And if we didn't question, if we didn't care - we wouldn't wear our guilt and worry like the hottest new skirt or shoes for all to see.
In that time -the in betweens - are the moments that rest on sleepy eyelashes, toddler giggles, and chubby-armed hugs, the dirty fingerprints on everything, the countless buttercups handed over to us, the campy arts and crafts, the pb&j kisses. Those moments are just for us.
And we work so hard for them. We don't ask for them. They are handed over so lovingly, so generously.
The guilt is an occupational hazard, for sure.
It's there to stay.
But.
They'll be OK.
And so will we. I think.
Yeah.
So will we.
7/22/07
Sunday Morning Song of the Moment - the big 3
Friday was spent running around on errands to get ready. And we spent the whole day doing it.
The whole day.
From the time we got up to the time we went to bed.
Yesterday even found us spending much of the early part of the day getting ready.
And then at 1:00 p.m. it was on.
A big birthday bash for Gracie who turns 3 today.
And for Connor who turns 5 on the 27th.
We went all out for this one (which we don't usually do).
But I wanted to have a good time.
So we also invited a lot of "adult" friends.
And we enjoyed a lot of "adult" beverages.
The weather was beautiful. Perfect actually.
Perfect actually. That describes my Gracie - I call her Gracie-goo, Googie, Goog, Poogie, Poog. Pick one. We call her it.
She was born 3 years ago today.
My sweet, loving, caring, even-tempered (but a fireball) of a little girl.
The little girl I was so upset to find out we were having, but couldn't imagine my life without.
You can read her birth story here if you would like. Or if you haven't already, you can read the story as to how she got her name.
She is such a joyful girl with the most beautiful spirit.
And I'm glad she came to me -to us. I know that her path to get to me was a long one. But she's here now. And we're both better for the long wait.
These are for her. The first song, Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder I put on one of her very first CD's that I made for her. And the second one is from the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack. It's Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby by Alliso Krauss, Gillian Welch, and Emmylou Harris. I used to sing this to Gracie over and over and over. And it is still one of her favorites. If she curls up on my lap for a snuggle and I start to sing it, you can tell she slips into a memory, a comfortable place, and is soothed. I prefer the album version of the song. But I have to take what I can get.
Enjoy.
The whole day.
From the time we got up to the time we went to bed.
Yesterday even found us spending much of the early part of the day getting ready.
And then at 1:00 p.m. it was on.
A big birthday bash for Gracie who turns 3 today.
And for Connor who turns 5 on the 27th.
We went all out for this one (which we don't usually do).
But I wanted to have a good time.
So we also invited a lot of "adult" friends.
And we enjoyed a lot of "adult" beverages.
The weather was beautiful. Perfect actually.
Perfect actually. That describes my Gracie - I call her Gracie-goo, Googie, Goog, Poogie, Poog. Pick one. We call her it.
She was born 3 years ago today.
My sweet, loving, caring, even-tempered (but a fireball) of a little girl.
The little girl I was so upset to find out we were having, but couldn't imagine my life without.
You can read her birth story here if you would like. Or if you haven't already, you can read the story as to how she got her name.
She is such a joyful girl with the most beautiful spirit.
And I'm glad she came to me -to us. I know that her path to get to me was a long one. But she's here now. And we're both better for the long wait.
These are for her. The first song, Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder I put on one of her very first CD's that I made for her. And the second one is from the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack. It's Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby by Alliso Krauss, Gillian Welch, and Emmylou Harris. I used to sing this to Gracie over and over and over. And it is still one of her favorites. If she curls up on my lap for a snuggle and I start to sing it, you can tell she slips into a memory, a comfortable place, and is soothed. I prefer the album version of the song. But I have to take what I can get.
Enjoy.
7/18/07
Wrestling and Words
talking on the phone with the Administrative Assistant who is setting up the arrangements for the new employee orientation, questions were asked. Questions like:
when will we find out exactly what our schedule will be?
what is the attire for training? is there a "uniform" to be worn?
The answer to the 2nd question was: the dress is business-casual for training, but there are days where you will be permitted to wear jeans and there will be days you need to come in sweats. they'll let you know. the days you have to wear sweats are the days where you will be rolling around on the floor doing take-downs.
A Cheshire-cat-grin spread across her face upon hearing "take downs". Oh, she was familiar with them. She has seen her husband do quiet a few of them. She's even attempted a few take-downs during their mock wrestling lessons on the livingroom floor.
The call ended and she shared the information with him.
She feigned worry. i can't do this shit. really. i can't.
he beamed. yes, you can. i'm an all-state wrestler, remember? and you've taken me down plenty of times when we were wrestling. you'll be great. you'll do fine. you'll tear it up. just remember, if you're the best in the class you'll probably end up with the better schedule. and i know you'll be the best in the class. you've got it going on. you're awesome.
yeah. she said.
i know it's true. i just feels good to hear it sometimes.
he throws his head back in laughter. he takes her in his strong arms and kisses her on top of her head. he pulls back and looks deep within her eyes, with a sparkle in his and says
and that is why i love you.
when will we find out exactly what our schedule will be?
what is the attire for training? is there a "uniform" to be worn?
The answer to the 2nd question was: the dress is business-casual for training, but there are days where you will be permitted to wear jeans and there will be days you need to come in sweats. they'll let you know. the days you have to wear sweats are the days where you will be rolling around on the floor doing take-downs.
A Cheshire-cat-grin spread across her face upon hearing "take downs". Oh, she was familiar with them. She has seen her husband do quiet a few of them. She's even attempted a few take-downs during their mock wrestling lessons on the livingroom floor.
The call ended and she shared the information with him.
She feigned worry. i can't do this shit. really. i can't.
he beamed. yes, you can. i'm an all-state wrestler, remember? and you've taken me down plenty of times when we were wrestling. you'll be great. you'll do fine. you'll tear it up. just remember, if you're the best in the class you'll probably end up with the better schedule. and i know you'll be the best in the class. you've got it going on. you're awesome.
yeah. she said.
i know it's true. i just feels good to hear it sometimes.
he throws his head back in laughter. he takes her in his strong arms and kisses her on top of her head. he pulls back and looks deep within her eyes, with a sparkle in his and says
and that is why i love you.
7/17/07
The Girl With The Campfire Hair
This past weekend, we went on a family camping trip. Which means, our little family met up with Rav's family (his parents, their dogs, two of his brothers, and our nieces and nephew).
To be perfectly honest, I was not looking forward to a 5 hour car ride and camping with our two kids. I was not looking forward to this trip. But it was the only time we could get away & I thought the break might be nice.
I packed and baked goodies and made chicken salad with a heavy, heavy mind.
In fact, there was a breakdown thrown in for good measure.
A fit of crying, and questioning, and the throwing of hands up in the air.
All the while, Rav let me do it. He watched, he sat quietly, he let me air my crazies out.
And as always, he remained cool. Perfectly calm.
He knows how to ride out storms like a pro.
Once I purged my mental toxins, I felt a little better.
And upon piling in the car, I was even feeling happy.
The set-up of our Ravioli tent city went pretty smoothly considering there were 2 dogs, 4 kids under the age of 6 and one 8 month old.
The evening met with much throwing back of bottled adult beverages, a tidy campfire, and Rav & his brother playing guitar and singing.
And I just sat quietly.
Willing myself to shoo away anxious thoughts.
I talked to all of the kids as much as I could.
I sang to some of the songs as much as I could.
Because with stillness comes the dread, the fear, the questions, the doubt.
Saturday met us with plans to hit a place in town called The Gorge.
Connor headed to Corning Glass with my one brother-in-law and his daughter (my niece).
That left Rav, Gracie & I to head to The Gorge with my other brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and my other niece and my little baby nephew.
The Gorge was breathtaking.
And the place where I felt life melt away - just a little.
For there were views like this:
There's just one thing missing in this picture. I wish Connor had been there.
To be perfectly honest, I was not looking forward to a 5 hour car ride and camping with our two kids. I was not looking forward to this trip. But it was the only time we could get away & I thought the break might be nice.
I packed and baked goodies and made chicken salad with a heavy, heavy mind.
In fact, there was a breakdown thrown in for good measure.
A fit of crying, and questioning, and the throwing of hands up in the air.
All the while, Rav let me do it. He watched, he sat quietly, he let me air my crazies out.
And as always, he remained cool. Perfectly calm.
He knows how to ride out storms like a pro.
Once I purged my mental toxins, I felt a little better.
And upon piling in the car, I was even feeling happy.
The set-up of our Ravioli tent city went pretty smoothly considering there were 2 dogs, 4 kids under the age of 6 and one 8 month old.
The evening met with much throwing back of bottled adult beverages, a tidy campfire, and Rav & his brother playing guitar and singing.
And I just sat quietly.
Willing myself to shoo away anxious thoughts.
I talked to all of the kids as much as I could.
I sang to some of the songs as much as I could.
Because with stillness comes the dread, the fear, the questions, the doubt.
Saturday met us with plans to hit a place in town called The Gorge.
Connor headed to Corning Glass with my one brother-in-law and his daughter (my niece).
That left Rav, Gracie & I to head to The Gorge with my other brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and my other niece and my little baby nephew.
The Gorge was breathtaking.
And the place where I felt life melt away - just a little.
For there were views like this:
Gracie on the left. Cousin royal T. Ravioli on the right.
And this:
This one (above) is one of my favorite pictures that we took at The Gorge. The views were mind blowing.
The girls did such a great job at The Gorge. I was so proud. They did a 2 mile hike with rarely a peep or complaint. Cousin royal T. liked to be carried and Gracie just wanted to stop and look at the water. That was the only time you heard them complain. They took it all in and just had a blast. You could see between them a bond begin to form. A sisterly companionship that was truly spectacular to watch. And you can see it bloom in that first picture I posted of the two of them at The Gorge.
At one point during the hike, I had picked Gracie up and was carrying her. I leaned in and made the most of the moment - being there in this beautiful place with her - and I kissed her sun-kissed head. And as I did, I inhaled. And her hair smelled like campfire. She smelled like home. She smelled so beautiful. I know that I will never forget that moment with her as long as I live. The moment was quick. It was undetectable, really. No one knew. It wasn't marked by fireworks, squeals of delight, or monumental applause. It was for me and her. Though she doesn't even know it happened. I felt renewed there. My daughter who gives me so much - and she doesn't even know she does it.
It may sound cliche and hokey. But it was then that I felt peaceful. It was then that I felt back at center and back to myself. Surrounded by beautiful, natural cliffs, running spring water, and my girl.
My sweet girl with the campfire hair.
There's just one thing missing in this picture. I wish Connor had been there.
7/15/07
Feels Like Forever
Some of you might have noticed that between last night and today, I've been peeking in on your blogs.
We were away this weekend for a mini vacation.
I'm exhausted, but feel a bit better.
I will share details later. But we have a busy day of cleaning up and unpacking ahead.
I just wanted to say Hi and that I'm back.
I can't wait to catch up with everyone.
We were away this weekend for a mini vacation.
I'm exhausted, but feel a bit better.
I will share details later. But we have a busy day of cleaning up and unpacking ahead.
I just wanted to say Hi and that I'm back.
I can't wait to catch up with everyone.
7/12/07
7/11/07
Peeking Out
I've been hiding out. And it's not good.
This is what I do when the contents of my mind are spilling out all over the place in an invisible puddle.
I'm trying desperately to wipe it up before anyone sees these thoughts.
But I'm afraid I'm getting caught.
My anxiety level is at a new, all-time high.
I'm not sleeping well.
And when I do fall asleep, I wake up in a fit of anxiousness and a swirling in my stomach.
My mind is poisoning my body right now.
It's just not good.
When I get like this, I retreat. From everything.
I'm here. But it's not me.
My role is changing. The role that I've been in for 4 years now. And I'm not handling the anticipation of this change well. The effects this change will have - the impact of it - I feel is falling completely on my shoulders.
I'm in a pit of unhappiness about my plans for attending Blogher falling through.
It's leaving me feeling like a cry-baby.
But I have been making these plans for months, and to have them fall through is crushing.
I'm not whining.
I swear.
I just need to air this out.
I need to acknowledge why I've been absent here and out there, with the rest of you.
Not only that, those two mega posts from last week, drained me. Mentally and physically. It's as if typing it deflated me somehow. Rather than leave me feeling lighter and relieved, it has left me dry for right now.
For now, I'm taking my leave.
It may be for a mere 2 hours.
It may be for 2 days.
It may be for 2 weeks.
But for right now. I just can't do this.
This is what I do when the contents of my mind are spilling out all over the place in an invisible puddle.
I'm trying desperately to wipe it up before anyone sees these thoughts.
But I'm afraid I'm getting caught.
My anxiety level is at a new, all-time high.
I'm not sleeping well.
And when I do fall asleep, I wake up in a fit of anxiousness and a swirling in my stomach.
My mind is poisoning my body right now.
It's just not good.
When I get like this, I retreat. From everything.
I'm here. But it's not me.
My role is changing. The role that I've been in for 4 years now. And I'm not handling the anticipation of this change well. The effects this change will have - the impact of it - I feel is falling completely on my shoulders.
I'm in a pit of unhappiness about my plans for attending Blogher falling through.
It's leaving me feeling like a cry-baby.
But I have been making these plans for months, and to have them fall through is crushing.
I'm not whining.
I swear.
I just need to air this out.
I need to acknowledge why I've been absent here and out there, with the rest of you.
Not only that, those two mega posts from last week, drained me. Mentally and physically. It's as if typing it deflated me somehow. Rather than leave me feeling lighter and relieved, it has left me dry for right now.
For now, I'm taking my leave.
It may be for a mere 2 hours.
It may be for 2 days.
It may be for 2 weeks.
But for right now. I just can't do this.
7/9/07
Ravioli's Day
That picture of Rav over there, to the left, is one of my favorite pictures of him. It's not a great picture. And I'm not even sure why I like it.
This was taken before we even had met. But I think it just reminds me of that time. I love the fact that he bleached his hair - just as he did the summer we met. And I even had him bleach his hair for our wedding.
Today is Rav's birthday.
As always, there are a million things I want to say. But I can't quite find the words.
There are so many things that I would love to do for him today. But circumstances just don't allow for it.
I want him to know just how much he is appreciated and loved. That he is deserving of a celebration. He is an amazing friend, partner, father. He has such a calm, loving soul. And in the demands of daily life, Rav often gets looked over. He is the kind of person that demands little and requires even less. He is always happy. He is always in a calm, balanced state. So it is easy to forget that he needs tending to. And he never complains. He just keeps plugging along.
I want him to know how happy I am to mark this day with him. To recognize this day for what it is. The day that brought him here. The day that would ensure his presence in our lives. And we are all the better for him.
I love you, Rav. Happy Birthday!!
7/7/07
Sunday Morning Song of the Moment
So many days, I come here to bloggy-bloggy land. And so many days I get so many wonderful comments.
Comments from so many lovely, lovely people. Comments and personalities that lift me up, carry me through, make me laugh, make me think in new ways.
Not only that, so many of these lovely people who comment offer up fascinating stories, mindsets, thougts, introspective, personal, and pee-in-your-pants-and snort-at-the-same-time funny posts.
The giving that I have found here is endless.
And beautiful.
Last night, I found The Color Purple on TV. I haven't seen the movie in years and it's been just as long since I've read the book.
And in watching the movie, I found a song that I had forgotten about, but want to send out to all of you who are my sisters out here.
I don't feel I have adequately acknowledged just how much your support of me, my family, my thoughts has meant to me.
And today, I'm trying to do just that.
Here is my song. From me to all of you.
And you all know who you are.
And I take you all with me during the day. You pop up in little tidbits of real life. And I love it.
Enjoy your song. And go shake your shimmy, sistas!
Miss Celie's Blues sung by Tata Vega for The Color Purple
Comments from so many lovely, lovely people. Comments and personalities that lift me up, carry me through, make me laugh, make me think in new ways.
Not only that, so many of these lovely people who comment offer up fascinating stories, mindsets, thougts, introspective, personal, and pee-in-your-pants-and snort-at-the-same-time funny posts.
The giving that I have found here is endless.
And beautiful.
Last night, I found The Color Purple on TV. I haven't seen the movie in years and it's been just as long since I've read the book.
And in watching the movie, I found a song that I had forgotten about, but want to send out to all of you who are my sisters out here.
I don't feel I have adequately acknowledged just how much your support of me, my family, my thoughts has meant to me.
And today, I'm trying to do just that.
Here is my song. From me to all of you.
And you all know who you are.
And I take you all with me during the day. You pop up in little tidbits of real life. And I love it.
Enjoy your song. And go shake your shimmy, sistas!
Miss Celie's Blues sung by Tata Vega for The Color Purple
At Your Service
The other morning, while most of the East Coast was adrift in peaceful slumber, I made my way downstairs to try to take care of some much important and overdue blogging (lurking, commenting, reading - you know, that stuff).
A few minutes later, Connor comes down the stairs.
His hair standing up in all kinds of wild angles.
And I chuckle to myself as I watch him stumble over to the couch. His eyes are barely open.
He wraps himself in blankets.
And he says Mom? Will you turn on Cartoon Network?
I think maybe it might help lull him back to sleep. So I say Yeah, I'll put on Cartoon Network.
And he says You're good at service.
I laugh and ask him Why do you say that? What does service mean?
He says Well, you do some of the things that I like and some of the things that I ask you to do. And that is service. And you're good at service.
I was completely amused by all of this. The fact that he's trying on new vocabulary & working out the definitions.
Part of me though, is worried that I'm raising a club-weilding caveman.
A few minutes later, Connor comes down the stairs.
His hair standing up in all kinds of wild angles.
And I chuckle to myself as I watch him stumble over to the couch. His eyes are barely open.
He wraps himself in blankets.
And he says Mom? Will you turn on Cartoon Network?
I think maybe it might help lull him back to sleep. So I say Yeah, I'll put on Cartoon Network.
And he says You're good at service.
I laugh and ask him Why do you say that? What does service mean?
He says Well, you do some of the things that I like and some of the things that I ask you to do. And that is service. And you're good at service.
I was completely amused by all of this. The fact that he's trying on new vocabulary & working out the definitions.
Part of me though, is worried that I'm raising a club-weilding caveman.
7/5/07
Navigating Through The Knowing
-He's a boy.
-Boys are just very active.
-He needs to be disciplined.
-I don't see these things you are talking about.
The kickers:
-You're crazy
-It sounds like you want him to have something wrong with him.
-Why are you saying there is something wrong with him?
The above list would be filed under the category friendly fire. You'll need to know this for later on in the post.
***********************************************************************
It's the first day of preschool.
You're so proud of your son.
You walk him to his classroom. And the hallway is filled with this, almost, pageanty/competitiony air. Proud momma peacocks and little peacock babies, walking under wing.
As you stand in the hall, waiting for the day to begin, you look ahead to what a wonderful year it will be.
Friends to be made.
Activities to participate in.
The endless painted, glued, glittered, pipe cleanered art projects.
New songs to sing.
You delude yourself for awhile that all will be well.
But then comes the day where you get a negative report at pick-up time.
Then days and weeks meld themselves together into this unstoppable train of bad news.
Negative reports and gut wrenching, hands-in-the-air exasperation.
You leave in tears.
Day after day.
As you walk out the door to head for home, with pitying eyes bearing into the back of your neck and skull, you look down at your boy, the chubby still toddler face, the fat fingers pressed in your hand.
And he looks crestfallen.
His chubby, little hand tenses in yours. It's even sweaty.
His eyes are sad.
He simply is not happy.
See, he wants to be good.
He tries to be good.
He is good.
He just operates a little differently.
And he - at 3 - has no idea how to
handle this
or the fact that his mommy cries for him everyday.
And he sees it.
But if you stopped and read his eyes
and really listened
that is what he would say.
If he could.
He's the most caring, heartfelt boy.
But affectionate, he is not.
He's wickedly funny and smart.
But intensely serious and pensive.
When he laughs, you think he hasn't a care in the world.
But he is full of anxiety and worry. He worries about it all.
You talk to him and think he hasn't heard a word.
But he hears it all. He remembers everything he hears and sees. And he notices the smallest changes.
He lives in the moment and lives with wild abandon.
But he cannot transition from one thing to another easily.
He loves input and action.
But he becomes so overwhelmed by it all.
He loves to build intricate contraptions with Legos.
But he has no attention span.
He is so easy to understand.
And so complicated.
*************************************************************
You just want everyone - teachers, his friends, your friends, family members, his daddy, even yourself - to understand this Rubicks Cube of a boy.
And to accept him.
Without shame.
Without guilt.
Without their "friendly fire" opinions.
All you want is for them to put aside their misconceptions, pigheaded opinions, and learn about this fascinating boy, his wide-open mind, his immense heart.
You just want him to sit still at circle time.
Three minutes. That's it. Sit still for three minutes.
Like if he accomplishes that, it makes all the difference
between
what and what, really?
You just don't want to feel completely alone in the accepting, the grieving, the crying, the rejoicing, the understanding, the being thankful.
You feel that your only friends, at times, are the developmental specialists, the psychologists, the speech language pathologist, the occupational therapist.
Because they corroborate what you already know
and all of the other stuff, the good stuff too.
Yes, he's got a diagnosis.
But he's also got an above-average IQ, his cognitive ability is great, his speech is stellar.
They've got your back.
You can count on them.
You just wish that you had that security from people you
have actual relationships with.
Not strangers.
There comes a point where you feel you are fighting everyone (except for your stranger, specialist friends).
And you're exhausted from it.
All that you want to do is scream at everyone:
All I'm doing is what is best for him. I'm only thinking of him and what will help him!!!
Again, with the looking back.
And the realization that of all things
the diagnosis was the easy part.
-Boys are just very active.
-He needs to be disciplined.
-I don't see these things you are talking about.
The kickers:
-You're crazy
-It sounds like you want him to have something wrong with him.
-Why are you saying there is something wrong with him?
The above list would be filed under the category friendly fire. You'll need to know this for later on in the post.
***********************************************************************
It's the first day of preschool.
You're so proud of your son.
You walk him to his classroom. And the hallway is filled with this, almost, pageanty/competitiony air. Proud momma peacocks and little peacock babies, walking under wing.
As you stand in the hall, waiting for the day to begin, you look ahead to what a wonderful year it will be.
Friends to be made.
Activities to participate in.
The endless painted, glued, glittered, pipe cleanered art projects.
New songs to sing.
You delude yourself for awhile that all will be well.
But then comes the day where you get a negative report at pick-up time.
Then days and weeks meld themselves together into this unstoppable train of bad news.
Negative reports and gut wrenching, hands-in-the-air exasperation.
You leave in tears.
Day after day.
As you walk out the door to head for home, with pitying eyes bearing into the back of your neck and skull, you look down at your boy, the chubby still toddler face, the fat fingers pressed in your hand.
And he looks crestfallen.
His chubby, little hand tenses in yours. It's even sweaty.
His eyes are sad.
He simply is not happy.
See, he wants to be good.
He tries to be good.
He is good.
He just operates a little differently.
And he - at 3 - has no idea how to
handle this
or the fact that his mommy cries for him everyday.
And he sees it.
But if you stopped and read his eyes
and really listened
that is what he would say.
If he could.
He's the most caring, heartfelt boy.
But affectionate, he is not.
He's wickedly funny and smart.
But intensely serious and pensive.
When he laughs, you think he hasn't a care in the world.
But he is full of anxiety and worry. He worries about it all.
You talk to him and think he hasn't heard a word.
But he hears it all. He remembers everything he hears and sees. And he notices the smallest changes.
He lives in the moment and lives with wild abandon.
But he cannot transition from one thing to another easily.
He loves input and action.
But he becomes so overwhelmed by it all.
He loves to build intricate contraptions with Legos.
But he has no attention span.
He is so easy to understand.
And so complicated.
*************************************************************
You just want everyone - teachers, his friends, your friends, family members, his daddy, even yourself - to understand this Rubicks Cube of a boy.
And to accept him.
Without shame.
Without guilt.
Without their "friendly fire" opinions.
All you want is for them to put aside their misconceptions, pigheaded opinions, and learn about this fascinating boy, his wide-open mind, his immense heart.
You just want him to sit still at circle time.
Three minutes. That's it. Sit still for three minutes.
Like if he accomplishes that, it makes all the difference
between
what and what, really?
You just don't want to feel completely alone in the accepting, the grieving, the crying, the rejoicing, the understanding, the being thankful.
You feel that your only friends, at times, are the developmental specialists, the psychologists, the speech language pathologist, the occupational therapist.
Because they corroborate what you already know
and all of the other stuff, the good stuff too.
Yes, he's got a diagnosis.
But he's also got an above-average IQ, his cognitive ability is great, his speech is stellar.
They've got your back.
You can count on them.
You just wish that you had that security from people you
have actual relationships with.
Not strangers.
There comes a point where you feel you are fighting everyone (except for your stranger, specialist friends).
And you're exhausted from it.
All that you want to do is scream at everyone:
All I'm doing is what is best for him. I'm only thinking of him and what will help him!!!
Again, with the looking back.
And the realization that of all things
the diagnosis was the easy part.
Screeching Hault - Updated
The past few days have been a little nutty.
And I won't be posting much here in the next few days.
Rav & I have been sans sleep for the past 3 days.
He is in excruciating pain due to some pesky wisdom teeth.
And I haven't been sleeping due to the fact that my mind just.won't.shut.up.
or just.slow.the.hell.down.
Oh, and because of anxiety.
This afternoon, Rav has an emergency consultation at an oral surgeon and tomorrow will bring surgery on his wisdom teeth.
So, until I'm rested up and Rav is feeling better........
I'll be seeing you then.
*******Update********
Rav is hanging in. Thanks to some prescribed drugs.
Hopefully that means he will be able to get some sleep.
Turns out, that the problem isn't his wisdom teeth at all, but rather a molar that has some nerve issues.
Oh, the nerve! (sorry, bad joke alert. I'm punchy. I've been running on no sleep myself)
So, tomorrow I drive him in for a root canal.
And hopefully he'll be on a road to recovery.
Thanks for all of your comments and thoughts!
And I won't be posting much here in the next few days.
Rav & I have been sans sleep for the past 3 days.
He is in excruciating pain due to some pesky wisdom teeth.
And I haven't been sleeping due to the fact that my mind just.won't.shut.up.
or just.slow.the.hell.down.
Oh, and because of anxiety.
This afternoon, Rav has an emergency consultation at an oral surgeon and tomorrow will bring surgery on his wisdom teeth.
So, until I'm rested up and Rav is feeling better........
I'll be seeing you then.
*******Update********
Rav is hanging in. Thanks to some prescribed drugs.
Hopefully that means he will be able to get some sleep.
Turns out, that the problem isn't his wisdom teeth at all, but rather a molar that has some nerve issues.
Oh, the nerve! (sorry, bad joke alert. I'm punchy. I've been running on no sleep myself)
So, tomorrow I drive him in for a root canal.
And hopefully he'll be on a road to recovery.
Thanks for all of your comments and thoughts!
7/2/07
The Process Of Knowing and Accepting
Upon giving birth to your children, there are certain thoughts that you can't easily wrap your mind around. Dizzying thoughts, frightening thoughts. And you push them away. And you don't dare speak of them. For you fear that the very utterance of such things will actually bring them on.When you hold your children in your arms for the first time, you finally get to look at actual features. Rather than the ones that you painted on a tiny face in your mind - features of your own design. The canvas that allows you to paint on it the perfect, button nose. The biggest, widest, inquisitive eyes. Perfect baby curls. Baby pink skin. You never stop to think about the underneath.
The Code. The perfect fusion of separate genetics that have to come together.
That's a painting class you skip over when painting features on your baby.
Making sure you add perfect strokes and fusions of color to certain pieces of code.
You can't. You contribute what you have and hope it's for the best.
So you hold your baby and look at a face that is brand new to you, but you can't even imagine a time that it didn't exist in your life. Despite the difference it clearly has in regards to what you had imagined.
It is all foreign.
And familiar.
For nine long months you imagine what this new life will bring. At the very least, endless possibilities.
And in your mind's eye they all lead to extraordinary things.
All that you can think about and do is how to harness all of this potential. This potential for greatness that we are all born with, but is exceptional when you hold it in your own hands.
Tabula Rasa.
Their slate is perfectly clean.
You can read to them in languages - any language - and their little minds are wired to accept it all.
You can sing and talk and they know your voice.
A voice they've heard in their water cocoon.
You can touch and be touched.
And these sensations trigger chemical and physical reactions that begin the bonding process.
And they are an integral part of the development of their greatness.
They are so perfect in that no harm has touched them.
The world is a sensory smorgasboard.
And you are just trying to provide every perfect opportunity and experience of all the things the world has to offer.
And they are so perfectly willing to take it all in.
As a parent, you dream for them all of the dreams that have slipped through your fingers.
You want them to know no bounds to the wonders that they can accomplish.
Time moves on for a bit and there is a shift.
A brick in your gut.
You are beginning to slowly become aware of one of the thoughts that you initially couldn't wrap your mind around. And again, you don't speak it for fear that it will surely come true.
You feel in your gut that, at 8 months old, your child is just
different.
You can't put your finger on it. And when you say it in your head, it sounds quite silly.
And in fact, you feel like such a fool, that you keep the insanely green, new mom thought to yourself.
You keep that thought to yourself for 2 years.
However, it begins to creep its way to that space in your brow where the lines begin to deeply crease. When the pediatrician offers you her wisdom in the form of:
Don't be surprised if....
Don't worry though. There's still time. He's still very young. He could just be immature.
You shake this off, like any good mom would do.
You leave the office and shove that statement to the bottom of the diaper bag. Right next to the bag of smashed crackers and Zweiback toast that has probably been there since he was teething at 5 months old.
All that you can think about and do is how to harness all of this potential. This potential for greatness that we are all born with, but is exceptional when you hold it in your own hands.
Tabula Rasa.
Their slate is perfectly clean.
You can read to them in languages - any language - and their little minds are wired to accept it all.
You can sing and talk and they know your voice.
A voice they've heard in their water cocoon.
You can touch and be touched.
And these sensations trigger chemical and physical reactions that begin the bonding process.
And they are an integral part of the development of their greatness.
They are so perfect in that no harm has touched them.
The world is a sensory smorgasboard.
And you are just trying to provide every perfect opportunity and experience of all the things the world has to offer.
And they are so perfectly willing to take it all in.
As a parent, you dream for them all of the dreams that have slipped through your fingers.
You want them to know no bounds to the wonders that they can accomplish.
Time moves on for a bit and there is a shift.
A brick in your gut.
You are beginning to slowly become aware of one of the thoughts that you initially couldn't wrap your mind around. And again, you don't speak it for fear that it will surely come true.
You feel in your gut that, at 8 months old, your child is just
different.
You can't put your finger on it. And when you say it in your head, it sounds quite silly.
And in fact, you feel like such a fool, that you keep the insanely green, new mom thought to yourself.
You keep that thought to yourself for 2 years.
However, it begins to creep its way to that space in your brow where the lines begin to deeply crease. When the pediatrician offers you her wisdom in the form of:
Don't be surprised if....
Don't worry though. There's still time. He's still very young. He could just be immature.
You shake this off, like any good mom would do.
You leave the office and shove that statement to the bottom of the diaper bag. Right next to the bag of smashed crackers and Zweiback toast that has probably been there since he was teething at 5 months old.
************************************************************************
A year or so later, the summer is winding down.
The sun is beginning to set a little earlier. The air has a new crispness to it. Change is making its way through the air, down to the plants in the gardens, the water, even the grass. And you have no idea that it is extending to you, too.
You hold a camera up to your face.
You want to capture a moment in time. A moment you'd love to hold on to for a rainy day.
Your finger presses down and you can't begin to imagine the striking change you've just captured. You have no way of knowing yet. And you won't see the picture for a few days.
In hurried anticipation, you tear open the envelope. You pull out the photos.
And in that instant there can be no more denying.
The little boy in the photos is a shell of the boy you know and love.
The little boy in the photos is a shell of the boy you know and love.
For all of the life you know he possesses, there isn't a sign of it in his eyes.
They are vacant.
A dead brown.
In a rush you tally changes up in your mind:
In a rush you tally changes up in your mind:
-the absence of good eye contact
-the aversion to certain textures of foods
-the explosive tantrums
-the anxiety
-the sensitivity and overreaction to sunlight
-the impulsivity
-the hyperactivity
All of these things, singled out, are not really that big of a deal.
But when you weigh them together, you are deeply entrenched in the knowing.
You yell at yourself for not listening to your gut.
You yell at yourself for not listening to your gut.
And then rational, reasonable thoughts whisper in your ear that it probably wouldn't have made much difference.
Really.
You have conversations with yourself about how it could be so much worse.
And you know that.
But the reality you face now is a bit more muddled and foggy when placed next to its predecessor.
The reality you had before.
Back then.
Despite all your knowing the good things, the positive things, the it-could-be-so-much-worse things, you know that you have a road to travel that will be different from the easy, meandering country road you had envisioned.
You know that it will, hopefully, get better.
But for now, you have to prepare yourself for a war-torn road.
Not to mention
frequent run-ins with friendly fire.
I Am A Mutant
First let me say that I had spent all of this time posting pictures of my flowers and my garden into a semi-interesting post to just have it go to hell.
This post, when I published it, was too much for the rest of my blog to handle it sent the whole thing to go all haywire.
I deleted it & decided to come back to it another time.
So for now, this is all I've got:
Am I the only person on the whole of the Earth that cannot stand the movie Grease?
I understand it has legions of devoted fans.
But I remember seeing it for the very first time at age 10 or 11 and found myself rolling my eyes, plugging my ears with my fingers, and generally relieved when it was over.
And I still feel that way today.
I don't get the big deal about this movie.
I don't know why it irks me so.
It just does.
Sorry to any of you out there that love this movie.
I apologize. We can still be friends just because I don't like it and you do...
I won't hold it against you ;)
I just don't get it is all. What it is about that movie?
And I feel like I'm the only one who feels that way.
Especially considering my gender.
This post, when I published it, was too much for the rest of my blog to handle it sent the whole thing to go all haywire.
I deleted it & decided to come back to it another time.
So for now, this is all I've got:
Am I the only person on the whole of the Earth that cannot stand the movie Grease?
I understand it has legions of devoted fans.
But I remember seeing it for the very first time at age 10 or 11 and found myself rolling my eyes, plugging my ears with my fingers, and generally relieved when it was over.
And I still feel that way today.
I don't get the big deal about this movie.
I don't know why it irks me so.
It just does.
Sorry to any of you out there that love this movie.
I apologize. We can still be friends just because I don't like it and you do...
I won't hold it against you ;)
I just don't get it is all. What it is about that movie?
And I feel like I'm the only one who feels that way.
Especially considering my gender.
6/30/07
Sunday Morning Song of the Moment
I don't know about all of you, but the next month to month and a half are going to be insane.
Let me amend that.
Every weekend from here on out is going to be insane.
My dad & I caught up with each other via a phone conversation. And I know at the end of it, I felt like we were deeply immersed in the Cat's In The Cradle song.
That's just not a good feeling.
I find that I tell my kids about 9,000,000 times a day
One more minute.
Hold on a second.
Maybe another time.
Not right now.
We'll see.
I'm not sure.
In a hot second!!
Wait.
You get the picture.
Sometimes, I long for rainy days where staying in PJ's until dinnertime is mandatory.
Those days where you don't feel bad about being packed on the couch like sardines.
Days where you eat your weight in snacks.
Days where you wake up, look outside and say
Today is a day made for coffee mugs, homemade pancakes, and tickle fest after tickle fest.
This is what I wish for you all too.
The summer obligations are exciting. I enjoy celebrating new beginnings for friends. Family "vacations", graduation/anniversary parties.
But it's nice to have a weekend all of our own.
Especially in the summertime.
For now though, we'll have to pretend.
So, here's my song. For all of you out there.
Busy or not so busy.
But those that just want to take the day one minute at a time.
Those who want to stop time,
take the time to walk slowly,
and those who want to smell the flowers.
It's got a good vibe. And a little lighter from my normal picks. I don't want to depress anyone, for I know that I lean toward heavier things.
Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson
Let me amend that.
Every weekend from here on out is going to be insane.
My dad & I caught up with each other via a phone conversation. And I know at the end of it, I felt like we were deeply immersed in the Cat's In The Cradle song.
That's just not a good feeling.
I find that I tell my kids about 9,000,000 times a day
One more minute.
Hold on a second.
Maybe another time.
Not right now.
We'll see.
I'm not sure.
In a hot second!!
Wait.
You get the picture.
Sometimes, I long for rainy days where staying in PJ's until dinnertime is mandatory.
Those days where you don't feel bad about being packed on the couch like sardines.
Days where you eat your weight in snacks.
Days where you wake up, look outside and say
Today is a day made for coffee mugs, homemade pancakes, and tickle fest after tickle fest.
This is what I wish for you all too.
The summer obligations are exciting. I enjoy celebrating new beginnings for friends. Family "vacations", graduation/anniversary parties.
But it's nice to have a weekend all of our own.
Especially in the summertime.
For now though, we'll have to pretend.
So, here's my song. For all of you out there.
Busy or not so busy.
But those that just want to take the day one minute at a time.
Those who want to stop time,
take the time to walk slowly,
and those who want to smell the flowers.
It's got a good vibe. And a little lighter from my normal picks. I don't want to depress anyone, for I know that I lean toward heavier things.
Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson
6/29/07
Final Say
Today, during a drool fest, or what I'd like to call a late afternoon nap, Rav woke me up to take a phone call.
A phone call from the People who interviewed me for that position at a state-run detention center.
Remember?
I quickly wiped the drool off of the side of my face and my chin.
I mentally slapped myself in the face.
I cleared my throat so there would be no hint of grogginess when I answered the phone.
Blah-de-blah-blah.
I got the job.
Yes. Oh, yes.
I got the fucking job.
I say it like that because I resigned myself to the fact that I didn't get it.
And truth-be-told, I was a wee bit relieved.
See.
The job is 2nd shift.
And with Connor starting all day Kindergarten next year, that means I will see him all of 2 days a week and for a few minutes in the morning before he goes to school.
That also means that during the day, I will have to attend my classes to finish up that degree I've been working on.
As a family, the salary will benefit us tremendously.
But my big hang-up is the absence of seeing Connor.
Oh, and this big kicker.
My return flight from Blogher is Monday, July 30th. I arrive in Philly at noon to one-ish.
And the first day of my two week training?
Yep. Monday, July 30th.
Got to love non-refundable plane tickets.
When I interviewed for the position, the Asst. Superintendent told me that they are "cleaning house" in regards to staff. And that there are a lot of staff which are getting ready to retire. I'm holding out hope that maybe after putting in a few months time, a day shift position will open up. And that perhaps I'll be eligible.
Because like I said, not seeing my boy is going to really be a doozie.
For him.
And for me.
I'm sure by now you've been able to pick up the questions in my voice in regards to my ability to juggle this.
I know moms do this all day. Everyday.
Jobs, kids, home, school.
And they do it well.
I just question my ability.
Will the kids feel neglected/abandon by me?
Connor, being so sensitive, I know will be OK. But. But. He does not acclimate well to change.
How will I be able to complete my school work?
And feel like I'm being the mom that the kids need me to be?
How will I sustain the energy needed to accomplish all of this and not get burnt out?
Seriously, the questions are endless.
A phone call from the People who interviewed me for that position at a state-run detention center.
Remember?
I quickly wiped the drool off of the side of my face and my chin.
I mentally slapped myself in the face.
I cleared my throat so there would be no hint of grogginess when I answered the phone.
Blah-de-blah-blah.
I got the job.
Yes. Oh, yes.
I got the fucking job.
I say it like that because I resigned myself to the fact that I didn't get it.
And truth-be-told, I was a wee bit relieved.
See.
The job is 2nd shift.
And with Connor starting all day Kindergarten next year, that means I will see him all of 2 days a week and for a few minutes in the morning before he goes to school.
That also means that during the day, I will have to attend my classes to finish up that degree I've been working on.
As a family, the salary will benefit us tremendously.
But my big hang-up is the absence of seeing Connor.
Oh, and this big kicker.
My return flight from Blogher is Monday, July 30th. I arrive in Philly at noon to one-ish.
And the first day of my two week training?
Yep. Monday, July 30th.
Got to love non-refundable plane tickets.
When I interviewed for the position, the Asst. Superintendent told me that they are "cleaning house" in regards to staff. And that there are a lot of staff which are getting ready to retire. I'm holding out hope that maybe after putting in a few months time, a day shift position will open up. And that perhaps I'll be eligible.
Because like I said, not seeing my boy is going to really be a doozie.
For him.
And for me.
I'm sure by now you've been able to pick up the questions in my voice in regards to my ability to juggle this.
I know moms do this all day. Everyday.
Jobs, kids, home, school.
And they do it well.
I just question my ability.
Will the kids feel neglected/abandon by me?
Connor, being so sensitive, I know will be OK. But. But. He does not acclimate well to change.
How will I be able to complete my school work?
And feel like I'm being the mom that the kids need me to be?
How will I sustain the energy needed to accomplish all of this and not get burnt out?
Seriously, the questions are endless.
Welcome to Stanley's World - a Guest Post by Rav
I knew when Grace was born, that someday, I would have to worry about boys coming around. I knew that there are boys out there, that I would rather she not meet. I knew that I would have my hands full in keeping these boys away from her. I also knew that Connor, being so close in age to her, would certainly help me. Finally, I knew that since she was so young, I had many years until I had to worry about it. But last night, I received the shock of a lifetime. As I walked up the stairs, and passed my children's room, I saw something out of the corner of my eye....
Sleeping on the job!
That's right, it's my man Stanley! That rat bastard. The dirty Cad. And then I looked closer...
Are you smirking at me? You son of a bitch. But where is Connor? He was supposed to be helping me out........
Sleeping on the job!
6/28/07
Hoagies and Grinders, Hoagies and Grinders....
This past weekend, our family celebrated my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. That's them over there to the left... Mem and Pap. (sound like a total redneck, don't I?? heh)
I have mentioned on here that my mom's family is Pennsylvania Dutch.
I'm pretty sure that, at one time, our family was Amish and broke away.
And I'm not joking. I'm dead serious.
Anyway......whenever there is a big, family function you can always count on good, country home-cooked food. Which, truth-be-told is good. But not necessarily good for you.
For example, homemade Whoopie Pies.
Yum.
But not so good, as far as healthful food is concerned.
Because the celebration was a more "formal" affair, we had some food catered.
And everyone pitched in and brought something.
Even my grandmother, who we were celebrating.
She brought her homemade sloppy joe.
Which, is so delicious, it can make absolutely no comparison to that Man-wich stuff.
There is no substitute for Mem's sloppy joe.
We were fortunate enough to be sent home with some of the homemade sloppy joe.
I have mentioned on here that my mom's family is Pennsylvania Dutch.
I'm pretty sure that, at one time, our family was Amish and broke away.
And I'm not joking. I'm dead serious.
Anyway......whenever there is a big, family function you can always count on good, country home-cooked food. Which, truth-be-told is good. But not necessarily good for you.
For example, homemade Whoopie Pies.
Yum.
But not so good, as far as healthful food is concerned.
Because the celebration was a more "formal" affair, we had some food catered.
And everyone pitched in and brought something.
Even my grandmother, who we were celebrating.
She brought her homemade sloppy joe.
Which, is so delicious, it can make absolutely no comparison to that Man-wich stuff.
There is no substitute for Mem's sloppy joe.
We were fortunate enough to be sent home with some of the homemade sloppy joe.
Monday, the kids & I were sitting on the sofa. And Rav walks into the room.I ask him what he's heating up for lunch.
He replies Sloppy joe.
And, without warning, and at the same time, we both being to sing from Adam Sandler's Lunch Lady Land song:
Sloppppyy joe. Slop-slopppy joe!!!!
Sloppppyy joe. Slop-slopppy joe!!!!
As we sing this, the kids are both delighted and scared. For they have no idea what has come over their parents.
We begin to play some weird tickling game with the kids while singing:
Sloppppyy joe. Slop-slopppy joe!!!
Sloppppyy joe. Slop-slopppy joe!!
And they laughed like they've never laughed before.
We laughed like we never have laughed before.
In the middle of the sloppy joe tickle fest, I was able to break away.
And I hopped over to the computer to search out Youtube for the video.
And I found it!
Upon the first viewing, the kids were hooked.
We've been singing:
Sloppppyy joe. Slop-sloppppy joe!!!
Aaaalllllll week.
And watching that video over and over and over again.
Here's the video in case you've never seen it or heard it. Although, I'm sure many of you have.
But go. Enjoy.
Act your shoe size. Not your age.
It does us all some good to be juvenile once-in-awhile.
Go! Watch! Sing! Nobody's watching. I swear.
6/27/07
The Toot-Toot Of Me Own Horn
Nothing big to report. Nothing that a million other, way more talented bloggers out there couldn't accomplish....
But.
Mike had approached me about submitting one of my posts to IndieBloggers.
And I listened to him.
After agonizing about the fear of rejection, I happened to check over at IndieBloggers and saw that they accepted my post.
Pretty cool.
Not only that, SlackerMommy has awarded me with the Rocking' Girl Blogger Award.
She's always been so good to me. Thank you, Kristie. You're such a sweetheart.
And now I have to work on my nominations. for the Rockin' Award.
But.
Mike had approached me about submitting one of my posts to IndieBloggers.
And I listened to him.
After agonizing about the fear of rejection, I happened to check over at IndieBloggers and saw that they accepted my post.
Pretty cool.
Not only that, SlackerMommy has awarded me with the Rocking' Girl Blogger Award.
She's always been so good to me. Thank you, Kristie. You're such a sweetheart.
And now I have to work on my nominations. for the Rockin' Award.
How Can You Bear To Read This Drivel?
This always happens.
When I get rolling on an idea, the rest of my life catches up with me.
Ya know, like I need to shower today. (people often wonder about the smell as they pass through Northern Delaware and into New Jersey. Yeah, well. That would be me.)
I have these two little people running wild in my house.
They definitely need tending to.
And my eyes.
I have neglected my eyes for two and a half years. So, it's time to get them taken care of. In fact, I do that today at 2:00.
I have to go get invitations to send out for the kids' birthday party after I go and get my eyes checked.
And my mom is watching the kids today while I get that stuff done.
So, we're rolling out of here early to go swimming (god help me, because I've been having flashbacks just thinking about it.)
Which means I will not be playing the hermit and blogging for most of the day.
I am now officially behind on reading/commenting.
This sets me into a panic.
And I don't know why.
I'm just neurotic.
So, I haven't forgotten about my little project over here.
Life is just sneaking up on me.
When I get rolling on an idea, the rest of my life catches up with me.
Ya know, like I need to shower today. (people often wonder about the smell as they pass through Northern Delaware and into New Jersey. Yeah, well. That would be me.)
I have these two little people running wild in my house.
They definitely need tending to.
And my eyes.
I have neglected my eyes for two and a half years. So, it's time to get them taken care of. In fact, I do that today at 2:00.
I have to go get invitations to send out for the kids' birthday party after I go and get my eyes checked.
And my mom is watching the kids today while I get that stuff done.
So, we're rolling out of here early to go swimming (god help me, because I've been having flashbacks just thinking about it.)
Which means I will not be playing the hermit and blogging for most of the day.
I am now officially behind on reading/commenting.
This sets me into a panic.
And I don't know why.
I'm just neurotic.
So, I haven't forgotten about my little project over here.
Life is just sneaking up on me.
6/26/07
While I Get My Thoughts In Order
I've touched on a subject that I feel, for others and myself, is relevant. It's a subject that I feel needs to be brought to the forefront for many reasons. And while I organize my thoughts for further posts this week, I just want to share a sampling of Connor's musings.
A few weeks ago:
{Connor} Mom?
{Me} Yes.
{Connor} Who is Al Capone?
{Me} (thinking) WTF?!?!
Some weeks ago:
{Connor} Mom?
{Me} Yes?
{Connor} Who were the Vikings?
{Me} (thinking) GAH!!!
Sunday:
*as we're getting out of the car in the grocery store parking lot*
{Connor} Mom! I saw another green car just like our car. That car was a clone. Sometimes cars are clones.
{Me} Yes, Connor. Did you see a car that looked like ours? How do you know what a clone is?
{Connor} Because I'm smart.
{Me} Oh, yes you are. How do you know you're smart?
{Connor} Because I'm smart.
Last night:
{Connor} Mom? What keeps my brains stuck on the inside?
{Me}(touching my skull) Feel that hard part of your head Connor. Do you feel it? Do you feel how hard that is?
{Connor} Yes. I feel it.
{Me} Well, that is your skull. That is what keeps your brain inside of your head.
{Connor} Oh. Yeah! And my brain is BIG!
Today. About 30 minutes ago.
{Connor} Mom! I cast a spell on the sink and the dishes are being washed.
{Rav} Connor, please go downstairs and turn off the sink.
{Me} Connor, what spell was that?
{Connor} I don't know. I can't remember.
(he comes back up the stairs from turning off the sink)
{Connor} Mom! I cast a spell and it turned on the TV!
{Me} Oh yeah? What spell was it?
{Connor} Turnonmagora.
A few weeks ago:
Some weeks ago:
Sunday:
*as we're getting out of the car in the grocery store parking lot*
Last night:
{Connor} Mom? What keeps my brains stuck on the inside?
Today. About 30 minutes ago.
(he comes back up the stairs from turning off the sink)
6/25/07
Staggering Numbers
I belong to a circle of friends.
A sort of strange, motley crew of friends.
But a group of friends, nonetheless.
There are six of us.
And what originally brought us together were our kids.
Despite the fact that we "hooked up" for playgroups on a regular basis and that disbanded,
we still remain friends.
Some of us see each other more than others, but in our hearts we're still tightly woven.
Of course, as has always been my deal, I'm the youngest in the group.
In fact, my parents are just a few years older than a couple of my friends.
But hey, that's just how I roll.
We all met the year our kids were in preschool together.
We started a playgroup the following summer to get each other through the summer.
And found that there were just too many kids and our nerves couldn't take it.
Since the time when we all first met and ended our "playgroup", we have had several diagnosis.
Here's the breakdown.
*D (7) had been diagnosed with PDD and was in a special needs preschool. D has now been diagnosed with Asperger's.
*Connor (4) has been diagnosed with sensory processing issues (which fall on the Autism spectrum) and ADHD.
*W (3) has been seen for services for speech and will most likely be diagnosed - for he is similar to D and Connor.
*Kristen (almost 2) has not been formally diagnosed, but she is severely MR. She is most likely blind, cannot support any part of her body, cannot speak, and the list goes on.
*O ( 3 1/2) just diagnosed last week with PDD and PICA.
Let me backtrack by saying all of us in our group hail from different parts of the country. We're of different ages, similar family backgrounds, though. Each of the kids have been born in different parts of the country except for Connor & O. They were both born here in Delaware.
We all met at a mainstream/typical preschool.
When reading this, doesn't something just stink?
Isn't it, almost, unbelievable that out of a group of 14 kids and 6 moms...
Five of them, five
have a diagnosis?
I don't have the answers to as whether it is because of pollution in our state.
Whether it is, infact, immunizations,
or whether it is hormones in our food.
But something, in my mind, just is not right.
A sort of strange, motley crew of friends.
But a group of friends, nonetheless.
There are six of us.
And what originally brought us together were our kids.
Despite the fact that we "hooked up" for playgroups on a regular basis and that disbanded,
we still remain friends.
Some of us see each other more than others, but in our hearts we're still tightly woven.
Of course, as has always been my deal, I'm the youngest in the group.
In fact, my parents are just a few years older than a couple of my friends.
But hey, that's just how I roll.
We all met the year our kids were in preschool together.
We started a playgroup the following summer to get each other through the summer.
And found that there were just too many kids and our nerves couldn't take it.
Since the time when we all first met and ended our "playgroup", we have had several diagnosis.
Here's the breakdown.
*D (7) had been diagnosed with PDD and was in a special needs preschool. D has now been diagnosed with Asperger's.
*Connor (4) has been diagnosed with sensory processing issues (which fall on the Autism spectrum) and ADHD.
*W (3) has been seen for services for speech and will most likely be diagnosed - for he is similar to D and Connor.
*Kristen (almost 2) has not been formally diagnosed, but she is severely MR. She is most likely blind, cannot support any part of her body, cannot speak, and the list goes on.
*O ( 3 1/2) just diagnosed last week with PDD and PICA.
Let me backtrack by saying all of us in our group hail from different parts of the country. We're of different ages, similar family backgrounds, though. Each of the kids have been born in different parts of the country except for Connor & O. They were both born here in Delaware.
We all met at a mainstream/typical preschool.
When reading this, doesn't something just stink?
Isn't it, almost, unbelievable that out of a group of 14 kids and 6 moms...
Five of them, five
have a diagnosis?
I don't have the answers to as whether it is because of pollution in our state.
Whether it is, infact, immunizations,
or whether it is hormones in our food.
But something, in my mind, just is not right.
6/24/07
Sunday Morning Song of the Moment
This week's song is a wee song. And one that I sang
over and over
and over and over
to Gracie.
And, I believe, this was the first song that she sang on her own.
First let me apologize for the quality of the video that I chose today. But I searched high and low for an album version of this song. There were none to be found. So, this is the best video I could find.
I hope you enjoy one of Gracie's favorites...... Anthony by Nickel Creek.
over and over
and over and over
to Gracie.
And, I believe, this was the first song that she sang on her own.
First let me apologize for the quality of the video that I chose today. But I searched high and low for an album version of this song. There were none to be found. So, this is the best video I could find.
I hope you enjoy one of Gracie's favorites...... Anthony by Nickel Creek.
6/22/07
Today...Four Years Ago
Today, is the day that, 4 years ago, Rav & I wed. 
I know that at times, I jam my feelings for Rav down your throat.
So, I won't this time. You all know where we stand with each other.
All I'll do today is share a little slideshow of pictures and a song that we chose during the cake-cutting/smashing portion of our wedding.
All I want to say is Happy Anniversary, Rav. It's been a great ride so far. And thank you for the message that you left for me on here.
Happy Anniversary!!!
4 years ago today, Tabba did me the indescribable pleasure of becoming my wife. Every day that has passed since, has increased the love that I have for her. Not one day goes by that I don't give thanks for the fact that I was finally able to wear her down enough to go out with me. Seriously though, I could not have asked for a better wife, a better partner, than Tabitha.
One of her favorite things that I do is speak in my terrible Scottish accent and quote her a line from Braveheart. Well, it's more like a paraphrase...
(In thick, terrible Scottish) Tabitha, I love you. Always have. I want to marry you.
I love you Tabba!
One of her favorite things that I do is speak in my terrible Scottish accent and quote her a line from Braveheart. Well, it's more like a paraphrase...
(In thick, terrible Scottish) Tabitha, I love you. Always have. I want to marry you.
I love you Tabba!
6/21/07
The Story Behind Killer
Remember a bit back, I was reminiscing about the summer camp where Rav & I met?
And I discussed that I was given the name of Dodgeball Ninja?
Which was a name used only on the Dodgeball court or in reference to the game itself.
Some of you who commented yesterday were curious about where Killer came from.
And again, that started at camp.....
Let's see....where to begin.
Let's start with my stats. Remember, I'm only 5'1". Really, 5' 1 1/2"....but that 1/2" really just makes me sound juvenile. Although, when you grow up always being the shortest one, you'll do anything for that 1/2". Anyway.....
I can't stand to be underestimated. Yes, I suppose I must have a Napoleon complex to some degree.
Also, at that time, I was probably 110 lbs., soaking wet. I was a wee thing.
Many people think they have to handle me with care simply because I am(was) little.
Working at the YMCA, we had every kind of kid you could imagine. From every kind of home.
Now, I am of the mindset that, when working with kids (of any kind) you have to start off sort of "tough" (i.e. be firm up front, set immediate boundaries, give respect and expect respect, that sort of thing....), and then ease up once roles have been clearly defined.
Not to mention when working with the number of kids that we did at that summer camp, it is essential that there be firm expectations - for safety reasons.
Look, bottom-line, I took my job seriously.
The second week of camp, I was assigned to work with the oldest group (who were about 12-14). And leading that group? Rav.
Rav who was a "senior" counselor.
Rav who was about the cockiest, arrogant person I had ever met at that point.
Rav who helped to develop G.A.T. (the Get-Away-Theory).
Which means that you try to ditch your group as much as possible.
And he surely did.
Which totally pissed me off.
He left me, a newbie, to try to handle this group of kids who were hell-bent on doing everything they could to make my life a living hell.
I was busting my butt in the summer heat, while he was laying on picnic tables in the shade with his finger up his nose.
When he finally returned to group, I let him have what-for. I was nice. I was firm.
But he got my point.
So, between my LOUD, commanding voice (for being so small), my often hard demeanor, my take-no-crap attitude, and my handling of Rav when shirking his duties, I was crowned
Killer.
And I discussed that I was given the name of Dodgeball Ninja?
Which was a name used only on the Dodgeball court or in reference to the game itself.
Some of you who commented yesterday were curious about where Killer came from.
And again, that started at camp.....
Let's see....where to begin.
Let's start with my stats. Remember, I'm only 5'1". Really, 5' 1 1/2"....but that 1/2" really just makes me sound juvenile. Although, when you grow up always being the shortest one, you'll do anything for that 1/2". Anyway.....
I can't stand to be underestimated. Yes, I suppose I must have a Napoleon complex to some degree.
Also, at that time, I was probably 110 lbs., soaking wet. I was a wee thing.
Many people think they have to handle me with care simply because I am(was) little.
Working at the YMCA, we had every kind of kid you could imagine. From every kind of home.
Now, I am of the mindset that, when working with kids (of any kind) you have to start off sort of "tough" (i.e. be firm up front, set immediate boundaries, give respect and expect respect, that sort of thing....), and then ease up once roles have been clearly defined.
Not to mention when working with the number of kids that we did at that summer camp, it is essential that there be firm expectations - for safety reasons.
Look, bottom-line, I took my job seriously.
The second week of camp, I was assigned to work with the oldest group (who were about 12-14). And leading that group? Rav.
Rav who was a "senior" counselor.
Rav who was about the cockiest, arrogant person I had ever met at that point.
Rav who helped to develop G.A.T. (the Get-Away-Theory).
Which means that you try to ditch your group as much as possible.
And he surely did.
Which totally pissed me off.
He left me, a newbie, to try to handle this group of kids who were hell-bent on doing everything they could to make my life a living hell.
I was busting my butt in the summer heat, while he was laying on picnic tables in the shade with his finger up his nose.
When he finally returned to group, I let him have what-for. I was nice. I was firm.
But he got my point.
So, between my LOUD, commanding voice (for being so small), my often hard demeanor, my take-no-crap attitude, and my handling of Rav when shirking his duties, I was crowned
Killer.
6/20/07
A rose by any other name...
I haven't had the great fortune of actually meeting a fellow blogger in real life yet.
I have yet to connect with one who is from my immediate area.
Well, I know there is one who lives in a neighboring state, but this pocket of the country seems not to possess a lot of bloggers.
Either that, or I'm just not looking hard enough.
Which is probably more likely.
Anyway, in an attempt to be playful when starting up my blog, I decided to use one of my nicknames - Tabba.
I have a couple nicknames. Some I know about, some I'm sure that have been given to me that I'm not aware of. And believe me. What I don't know, won't hurt me.
A few months or weeks - I'm not sure how long ago, as time is this crazy thing I have no concept of anymore when staying home with the kids - I got a chance to actually speak to a fellow blogger on the phone. She called, and she asked for Tabba.
I wasn't expecting the call from her, necessarily, though I was pleasantly surprised. So when I heard someone ask for Tabba, I stopped in my tracks....see, that is a name that only a certain handful of people call me.
For instance, my BFF and her daughter.
Certain members of my family - like my closest cousins and their kids - call me that.
Sometimes my uncle.
Most people call me Tab.
Usually someone who calls me Tabitha is not very close to me.
And my Dad, Mom, Stepmom, & brothers call me Jess.
As a little girl, my Dad used to call me Catfish.
My one sister-in-law calls me Tabby.
I've even been known to answer to Mommy a few million times a day.
Rav used to call me Killer - and still does from time to time.
I guess what I'm really trying to get at here, is that the few of you out here that read me regularly are calling me Tabba.
A name that, for me, denotes a rather intimate relationship. And the funniest part is that I have never met any of you, but it feels so comfortable.
And in my picking that name here for my blog, I never realized what exactly, that would mean.
And now I do.
I have yet to connect with one who is from my immediate area.
Well, I know there is one who lives in a neighboring state, but this pocket of the country seems not to possess a lot of bloggers.
Either that, or I'm just not looking hard enough.
Which is probably more likely.
Anyway, in an attempt to be playful when starting up my blog, I decided to use one of my nicknames - Tabba.
I have a couple nicknames. Some I know about, some I'm sure that have been given to me that I'm not aware of. And believe me. What I don't know, won't hurt me.
A few months or weeks - I'm not sure how long ago, as time is this crazy thing I have no concept of anymore when staying home with the kids - I got a chance to actually speak to a fellow blogger on the phone. She called, and she asked for Tabba.
I wasn't expecting the call from her, necessarily, though I was pleasantly surprised. So when I heard someone ask for Tabba, I stopped in my tracks....see, that is a name that only a certain handful of people call me.
For instance, my BFF and her daughter.
Certain members of my family - like my closest cousins and their kids - call me that.
Sometimes my uncle.
Most people call me Tab.
Usually someone who calls me Tabitha is not very close to me.
And my Dad, Mom, Stepmom, & brothers call me Jess.
As a little girl, my Dad used to call me Catfish.
My one sister-in-law calls me Tabby.
I've even been known to answer to Mommy a few million times a day.
Rav used to call me Killer - and still does from time to time.
I guess what I'm really trying to get at here, is that the few of you out here that read me regularly are calling me Tabba.
A name that, for me, denotes a rather intimate relationship. And the funniest part is that I have never met any of you, but it feels so comfortable.
And in my picking that name here for my blog, I never realized what exactly, that would mean.
And now I do.
6/19/07
Witty Banter With A Side Of Air Head
This morning, for a few brief moments, found Rav & I on our bellies on our bed. With two little munchkins walking on or sitting on our backs. Sounds a little mundane and/or weird. But really, it was great. They were entertained. We were "relaxing". It was a marriage of perfection. Rav looks over at me and says, This is horizontal parenting to the extreme. Although, it's not as good as stacked horizontal parenting.
All men are pretty much the same, right? I have to give him credit. For it was pretty funny. And once again, I know that Jess would be so proud of our skillz.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unrelated to horizontal parenting.......I mentioned in the comments to my last post that I stunk up the interview. I felt that, I was pretty comfortable exchanging small-talk and witty banter with the three guys on the interview panel. They were impressed that I could operate heavy machinery and build patios/stone walls. They were impressed with my apparent patience in working with preschool kids for so long. One of the guys on the interview panel said, Really, I bet it's not all that different working with preschoolers and working with our population.
To which I replied, I think you're right. The only difference is that this population is locked up. The preschoolers are just roaming free. For right now, anyway.
He seemed to appreciate my sense of humor.
That was great. Not many people get it.
One of the other men on the panel was the Assistant Superintendent of the facility. During our getting to know each other chit chat, he mentioned he was originally from the Department of Corrections. I mentioned that Rav is a Probation Officer. We began discussing how the juvenile sector and the corrections sector are like two different worlds. I began to discuss with him that juveniles still have the factor of time and mold-ability on their side ( I hate using the word mold-ability, change, etc. It sounds as if they are programmed. But some of these kids are save-able). Whereas with the adults.......the instances of rehabilitation are fewer and far between.
Again, the banter portion of the interview, I felt, went well. I think if they based the interview completely on that alone, I'd have the job in the bag.
The interview consisted of about 5 scenario-type questions. And I was required to tell a story of an instance that answers the question. The first question started out great.
And then from there on out, I fell apart. I felt like I was fumbling over my words. Drawing blanks.....I know that I have ample experience and knowledge. But my mind left me after the first question...or so I feel anyway.
Of course, when I got in the car, I could think of a million different shining examples of my abilities. But I'll be damned if I could recall them sitting on that panel.
The Assistant Superintendent told me that I'd hear something by the end of the week.
Quite frankly, I was expecting a call yesterday saying You're a really cool cat and all. But no thanks. We do not need any more time to think this one over.
Rav has a co-worker/friend who has a friend who works at the facility where I interviewed. He asked me to make sure I got at least one name of the interviewers. Which, in my air-headed filled moment, I managed to do. I think he's going to try to find out how it went. I don't think this guy has any pull, but he may be able to give me some fair warning.
I'm still keeping my fingers crossed....
All men are pretty much the same, right? I have to give him credit. For it was pretty funny. And once again, I know that Jess would be so proud of our skillz.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unrelated to horizontal parenting.......I mentioned in the comments to my last post that I stunk up the interview. I felt that, I was pretty comfortable exchanging small-talk and witty banter with the three guys on the interview panel. They were impressed that I could operate heavy machinery and build patios/stone walls. They were impressed with my apparent patience in working with preschool kids for so long. One of the guys on the interview panel said, Really, I bet it's not all that different working with preschoolers and working with our population.
To which I replied, I think you're right. The only difference is that this population is locked up. The preschoolers are just roaming free. For right now, anyway.
He seemed to appreciate my sense of humor.
That was great. Not many people get it.
One of the other men on the panel was the Assistant Superintendent of the facility. During our getting to know each other chit chat, he mentioned he was originally from the Department of Corrections. I mentioned that Rav is a Probation Officer. We began discussing how the juvenile sector and the corrections sector are like two different worlds. I began to discuss with him that juveniles still have the factor of time and mold-ability on their side ( I hate using the word mold-ability, change, etc. It sounds as if they are programmed. But some of these kids are save-able). Whereas with the adults.......the instances of rehabilitation are fewer and far between.
Again, the banter portion of the interview, I felt, went well. I think if they based the interview completely on that alone, I'd have the job in the bag.
The interview consisted of about 5 scenario-type questions. And I was required to tell a story of an instance that answers the question. The first question started out great.
And then from there on out, I fell apart. I felt like I was fumbling over my words. Drawing blanks.....I know that I have ample experience and knowledge. But my mind left me after the first question...or so I feel anyway.
Of course, when I got in the car, I could think of a million different shining examples of my abilities. But I'll be damned if I could recall them sitting on that panel.
The Assistant Superintendent told me that I'd hear something by the end of the week.
Quite frankly, I was expecting a call yesterday saying You're a really cool cat and all. But no thanks. We do not need any more time to think this one over.
Rav has a co-worker/friend who has a friend who works at the facility where I interviewed. He asked me to make sure I got at least one name of the interviewers. Which, in my air-headed filled moment, I managed to do. I think he's going to try to find out how it went. I don't think this guy has any pull, but he may be able to give me some fair warning.
I'm still keeping my fingers crossed....
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